Archive of Our Own

Foolish didn’t like to believe in karma, because even karma couldn’t be this cruel.

Yes, he had killed in the past. He had devastated land and people indiscriminately. He had once worshipped violence as the path to power, had his hands stained red with blood for centuries and centuries.

But none of his past sins, he despaired, could ever warrant seeing a brand new toll gate at the entrance of Las Nevadas.

It was built messily, with cobbled together sandstone that was reminiscent of L’sandburg, albeit with considerably less effort. The small hut-like structure stretched over the Las Nevadas path, complete with a small gate and some glass windows.

"Pay the toll and you can enter," Bad chirped, tapping on a wooden sign. “All for the low-low price of one golden apple!”

"That is," Foolish said, still in disbelief that the Badlands had this much free time, "a horrible compromise."

“Las Nevadas citizens have to gamble with something,” Ant said cheerfully, because of course he had tailed alongside Bad. “Don’t be stingy.”

“I’m not stingy, I just live here,” Foolish said, exasperated. “Actually--I don’t even know why I’m trying to reason with you.”

"Should I kill him again?" Ant asked Bad with genuine curiosity. “I think I read something about murder in my economics textbook.”

"Oh, for fuck's sake, just take an apple," Foolish sighed, shoving the aforementioned fruit into Bad’s hands. It wasn’t golden, but it’d at least shut Bad up. "By tomorrow morning, I'm gonna TNT you two into limbo."

“We finally got one!” Bad declared, holding it up to inspect it. He didn’t seem to mind that it was very clearly a normal apple. “Fundy walked around us. Purpled just tried to kill us.”

“Feels tempting,” Foolish mumbled, swinging the gate open and stepping onto the other side. And then, feeling a bit of trepidation, he turned around and asked, “Did you two...follow me here?”

“The summer home was getting boring,” Bad pouted. “I started setting up apartments in Punz’s property but he’s always sleeping nowadays. So when I heard you had moved house, I thought it’d be a great business opportunity!”

“It’s called real estate,” Ant chimed in.

Foolish was starting to smell ozone, and his hands were starting to crackle with electricity, so he took a deep breath in and forced himself let go of his power. “Sounds great.” He plastered a fake smile on his face. “You two have fun.”

Bad wanted attention like he always did, he told himself. The toll gate would be gone in the morning, Foolish would soon be consumed with work once more, and he would be free of this entire ordeal.

The toll gate was not gone in the morning.

In fact, not only did it double in size, but it also came with the arrival of a bright red building that seemingly appeared overnight. Foolish stepped out of his room to take a proper look at it, shielding his eyes against the sun to take a look at it.

It was tall and rectangular, made purely of concrete. Along the side were large, white words that got cut off at the end. Foolish squinted as he read it. SUPRE--

Oh, for the love of DreamXD.

“Cool, I always thought we needed a fridge,” Purpled commented, coming up alongside Foolish. He glanced at Foolish. “Tell me what color Quackity’s face turns when he sees this. I’m gonna go play Hypixel Bedwars now.”

“Sure,” Foolish said faintly.

The Supreme Fridge did not, of course, invoke the visceral rage in him that the toll gate brough, but a Supreme Fridge meant that Ponk was here, and if Ponk was here that meant it was Foolish’s gift, and if it was Foolish’s gift, that meant it was technically his responsibility now.

“Well,” Foolish said to himself, planting his hands on his hips. “At least it improves the view.”

It didn’t take long to track down Ponk. He was sitting against the Supreme Fridge, staring up at the sun thoughtfully, a stray strand of white hair falling between his eyes. At the sight of Foolish, his eyes crinkled up in a smile, and he waved him over.

While Foolish still struggled with trusting Ponk, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t harbor a soft spot for him and his builds. The destruction of the first fridge hit him harder than expected, after all, even with the ghost pains of the Red Banquet.

“Hi,” he greeted Ponk, sliding down next to him to sit in the sand. His legs felt clumsy and sprawling in comparison to the lithe way Ponk carried himself.

“Hey, Foolish!” Ponk said with a smile. “I was waiting to see you today!”

“What brought you out here?” Foolish asked. “I didn’t think you knew where Las Nevadas was.”

“I didn’t,” Ponk admitted, “but when I came to your summer home, I found it abandoned. I did some asking around, and it turns out everyone’s here now.”

“Well,” Foolish said, “technically Bad and Ant aren’t supposed to live here. Neither are you, for that matter.”

Ponk waved a dismissive hand. “None of us are ever where we’re supposed to be. I also found out Sam works here which is incredible, you have to help me kill him.”

“Sounds good,” Foolish agreed, mainly because Ponk’s plans to kill Sam always seemed to get derailed. “You should drop by the club sometimes. I heard Sam’s been hired as a stripper there.”

“He does have a great ass,” Ponk said sagely. “Maybe I’ll drag Bad along too.”

Oh, Foolish would pay to see that. “Are they really planning on staying here?” he asked Ponk. “Or is this just another one of Bad’s whims?”

“Depends on how needy Skeppy will be,” Ponk said with a laugh. “But I kind of like it here! I might build a nice home for myself somewhere. I’ve also already built three TNT traps and put four photos of Kanye around,” he continued, gesturing around the desert. “Really brings some life into this place. And I built this as a gift!” He patted the concrete of the fridge. “I thought it would be nice for you to have another one.”

“It is nice,” Foolish said, touched. “I’m not sure how Quackity will take it, though.”

“He’ll love it!” Ponk declared. “It’s supreme, how could he not?”

“That red abomination is hideous and I want it gone,” Quackity said the moment Foolish stepped into the Las Nevadas restaurant. He had his feet propped up on the table, with a bottle of what looked like hard alcohol with a bendy straw stuck in it.

“So you saw it.” Foolish slid into the seat across from Quackity. He had no idea why Quackity liked having business meetings in the restaurant, especially when Slimecicle liked to rest in the vents.

“Of course I fucking saw it.” Quackity snorted. “It’s kind of hard to ignore.”

“And...it’s my problem now,” Foolish guessed.

Quackity leaned forward. “You know I do love working with you,” he said, in a way that either meant Foolish was getting fired or proposed to. “Your builds have been amazing, it’s just that--” He waved a hand. “I really don’t want a Supreme fridge in my backyard. Or a toll gate at my front door. Also your father forcibly moved in yesterday?”

Foolish was going to break his oath of pacifism. Thousands of years, and his snapping  point would be toll gates.

“I think the Supreme Fridge looks nice,” he instead said weakly.

“This is why I don’t feel bad about watching you die,” Quackity muttered. “Look, Foolish, I know they’re only here because you’re here, so it’s on you to get rid of them without detonating any TNT on this precious land. But I swear, if Badboyhalo cons me out of a golden apple again, we’re gonna have issues.”

“I’ll do my best,” Foolish assured him. Then he paused. “Wait, what do you mean again? Did you actually pay the toll?”

“They had netherite axes!” Quackity protested. “I was unarmed!”

“I gave you netherite armor for a reason!” Foolish argued. “How did you let a language muffinhead and a warrior cats kinnie scam you?”

“I don’t want to have this conversation.” Quackity took a swig from the bottle, then stared at it. “This isn’t even alcohol. It’s water. I’m gonna start crying. Just take care of the problem.”

“A therapist did just move in,” Foolish suggested meaningfully. “If you need someone to talk to--”

“Shut up,” Quackity muttered. “I’ll just vent to Dream in the prison until he throws his books at me.”

Torture indeed, Foolish thought. He felt rather bad for Dream, in all honesty. It sounded like an impressive use of psychological warfare.

Las Nevadas, despite the importance Quackity stressed of it, came second after being a dutiful son.

He was still trying to figure out how to be one, actually. Having a parent’s unconditional love was still a foreign concept, and one that he wasn’t quite sure an immortal could ever understand. But he was trying, because Puffy had been the first to extend a hand out to him, and had never let go since.

After a quick chat with Slimecicle, who somehow knew everything about everyone, he entered the hotel. On the way in, he passed Fundy, who was sniffling into a tissue.

“Hey.” Fundy dabbed at his eyes. “Here to see the new therapist? Apparently I might have daddy issues.”

“I think I have those too,” Foolish sighed. “What floor is she on?”

Once Fundy had directed him (while also mumbling something about salmon), Foolish found his way to Puffy’s room. He took a moment to take in a breath before knocking on the door. He never told Puffy about his decision to join Las Nevadas and, despite being a primordial being, he was a...bit worried about being chewed out.

Puffy flung open the door, wearing her sunglasses despite being indoors. “Foolish!” she gasped, immediately wrapping him in a hug. It was a bit awkward, given their height difference, but appreciated nonetheless. “I was waiting for the chance to see you!”

“Hi, Puffy,” Foolish said, relaxing a little. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you here.”

Puffy stepped back. “I saw Bad sneak his way over here and I followed to keep an eye on him. Did you see that toll gate he built?”

“Yeah, I saw it.” Foolish glanced past her. “Are you leaving? It looks empty in here.”

“Oh, I was just about to start building.” Puffy picked up a pickaxe and swung it over her shoulder. “I just had to pick up my tools, the building supplies are all in chests out there.” She pointed out a window towards an empty plot of land, just outside Las Nevadas.

“You’re...building,” Foolish said slowly.

“Well, of course.” Puffy furrowed her eyebrows. “I have to live somewhere if I’m keeping an eye on Bad.”

“Uh-huh.” Quackity was so going to dock his pay for this. “As long as you don’t build anything ugly.”

“Who do you think I am, Ponk?” Puffy nodded at the door and Foolish stepped aside to let her walk out, then followed her down the hall.  “I already have the blueprint planned out. You can help me, if you want.”

Building with Puffy was always entertaining, so Foolish nodded. “Okay. Also, please don’t tear down the Supreme Fridge again, I’m already attached to it.”

“Ponk and I already settled everything in court,” Puffy assured him as they stepped out of the hotel. Drawing her coat close to herself, she added, “Why is it so cold out here?”

“It’s not a real desert,” Foolish explained. “Apparently Sam and Quackity terraformed all this sand.”

“Quackity has a penchant for that, then,” Puffy muttered. “He did the same thing with El Rapids. Looked much uglier though.”

“El--what?”

“Before your time here,” Puffy said dismissively. They reached her supply of chests and she knelt down and began to sort through them. “It’s just going to be a simple build, but tall enough to keep a close eye on Bad and Ant.”

Foolish peered over her shoulder. “What’s with the rainbow concrete?”

“For a pride flag, obviously,” Puffy replied. That way I can call whoever takes down my house homophobic. It’s more foolproof than obsidian.”

Foolish chuckled, taking some of the wooden planks Puffy handed him. “Just make sure Tommy doesn’t lay his eyes on here.”

“A child shouldn’t be at a casino anyway!” Puffy chastised. “You haven’t been letting any minors around here, right?”

Foolish winced, thinking about Wilbur’s frequent visits with the boy and Tubbo’s current employment. “Well….”

“Actually, don’t tell me, I don’t have to know,” Puffy interrupted him. “If I stay willfully ignorant, then nothing is my fault.”

“That doesn’t seem like a very healthy coping mechanism,” Foolish commented as he began to lay the foundation of the house down.

“I’m a Fiverr therapist,” Puffy reminded him. “Aren’t you asking a bit much of me?”

This server, Foolish thought to himself, was in shambles.

If Puffy refused to leave until the toll gate came down, then the root of all Foolish’s problems was, once again, Bad.

The demon was surprisingly hard to track down. Whenever he grew bored of manning the toll gate (which was often, if Foolish wasn’t there to mess around with him), he’d teleport back to some island he and Skeppy shared and disappear there for hours. That, combined with the fact that Foolish already found his hands twitching for his axe the last few times the two of them talked, made it clear confronting Bad directly wasn’t the best line of action.

That left Sam and Ant as his next resort. The Badlands members could either serve as Bad’s impulse control or his leash kids. Foolish was praying for the former.

He found the two under the Eiffel Tower, during one of the rare times Sam wasn’t caught up in the prison. Sam was looking a little singed, probably from one of Ponk’s failed assassination attempts, and was laughing with Ant about something.

It was good to see him happy again. Foolish was getting a little tired of Sam’s weekly mental breakdowns. Those, alongside Fundy’s sleep-deprived crying sessions and the occasional drunk Quackity cussing out his fiances, really just brought the mood down.

The moment Ant caught sight of Foolish, his eyes lit up, and he beckoned him over. “Foolish!” he cried. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“You saw me yesterday,” Foolish corrected him, smiling a little. “Sam, can I talk to you?”

“Mm.” Sam nodded, looking a bit spaced out. “Go on.”

“As the co-founder of Las Nevadas and member of the Badlands, I’m transferring the responsibility of Bad’s toll gate to you,” Foolish began, trying desperately to mimic the language Sam wrote in his contracts. How did he just spit out words like that? “You need to convince him to dismantle the toll gate and evict him from Las Nevadas, or there’ll be consequences.” What consequences, Foolish didn’t know. He just assumed there’d be some.

“Uh-huh,” Sam said vaguely. Ant’s eyes looked red.

Foolish narrowed his eyes. “You two are high, aren’t you?”

A grin slowly spread on Sam’s face. “Ant brought a stack of weednip,” he whispered gleefully. “Bad doesn’t know about it yet.” He raised an eyebrow. “Want some?”

Well. Foolish was a simple totem, really. “Oh, hell yeah I do.”

“How come there’s nothing to eat but beetroots,” Foolish despaired. The cow farm had nearly been exhausted with the amount of people at Las Nevadas, so Tubbo had outsourced his vegetable empire back on the main Dream SMP land, and it was all beets.

Screw the banquet, that farm would be one of Foolish’s biggest regrets. He should’ve convinced Tubbo to plant carrots instead.

“We’re stuck with them because Fundy’s farm is shit,” Quackity replied, “but if you want some vegetables, go ask Hannah to grow some, because apparently the entirety of the Eggpire has decided to camp out in my backyard.”

“..Is she actually here?”

“She mostly just plays bedwars with Purpled, admittedly,” Quackity said begrudgingly. “And Punz is here, too. He camps out at the top of the Needle and plays Valorant.”

“I didn’t know Valorant was canon,” Foolish mused.

“Yeah, it shouldn’t be.” Quackity rolled his eyes. “They’re starting their quote-unquote healing arc,” he said derisively. “On my land.”

Quackity really should take a leaf out of their book, Foolish thought, but he didn’t really have it in him to point it out. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Didn’t you try so hard to get Bad on your side?”

“Bad has two modes.” Quackity put up two fingers. “One is being a political mastermind. The other is being a local menace. I didn’t want to be stuck with local menace.”

“Although Ponk is definitely the worst one here,” Quackity added mournfully. “I’m supposed to the girlboss of Las Nevadas.”

“I think you would be more of a girlboss if you had two fiances,” Foolish offered. “Instead you just have a toll gate.”

Quackity sighed, slamming back his beetroot soup as if it were a shot. “At least Bad’s hot.”

This was how Foolish’s life played out now:

Every day, he woke up in Las Nevadas. He passed by the toll gate, got into a healthy argument with Bad, then set to work building the highway. Sometimes Puffy would help him out, only to quickly get sidetracked into a building competition with Bad. Other days, Ponk would be quick to drag him away to show off his latest makeshift redstone contraption. Whenever he was bored, he, Sam, and Ant would sneak around the toll gate and pull pranks on Bad until he took notice of them.

(He still really wanted to take one of Bad’s canon lives and destroy the toll gate. Just because he was a self-proclaimed pacifist didn’t mean he had no impulses.)

It was a slow building day when Las Nevadas had a new visitor.. He stopped in front of Foolish while he was laying down concrete, and Foolish looked up, only to get blinded by the noon sun glinting on diamonds. “Hey.”

“Skeppy.” He hadn’t seen the other in ages. “Are you here to see Bad?”

Skeppy’s lips quirked up in a crooked smile. “Am I that predictable?”

“Nah, just obsessed.” Foolish stood up, stretching out his sore back. “I can take you to him, if you want.”

“Well, if you’re busy--”

“I don’t mind the break.” Foolish beckoned Skeppy to follow him, and they walked together along the road to Las Nevadas. “How have you been?”

“I’m good. I heard Bad started another toll gate.” Skeppy was valiantly trying to sound exasperated, but it came out fond instead. “Sorry about that. I probably could’ve stopped him.”

“You’re really no help anyway,” Foolish pointed out. “Our kidnapping plan failed horribly.”

Skeppy shoved his hands into his pockets. “Oh, well. It didn’t really matter, anyway.”

Foolish didn’t bother arguing. Skeppy thought Bad sacrificing the server for him also didn’t really matter, anyway, so he had a warped perception of reality to begin with.

Once they had reached the toll gate, it was apparent another fight had broken out. Bad was behind the gate, waving his hands in agitation, as Quackity was trying to hack down the walls with a stone pick (physical strength wasn’t really his strong suit). Sam was between them, half-heartedly attempting to talk them down.

“Wrong timing?” Foolish guessed, stopping at the front of the toll gate.

Bad dropped his hands, eyes widening at the sight of his soulmate next to Foolish. “Skeppy!” He flung himself at Skeppy, wrapping him in a hug, before letting go and clinging to his shoulder. “Back me up here, okay?”

“Um,” said Skeppy, looking quite out of his depth. “What’s going on?”

“Quackity is bringing out all these rules,” Bad said petulantly, “but they don’t apply to the toll gate because it’s Badlands territory.”

“It’s still my land.” Quackity threw up his hands. “The only reason I haven’t nuked you is because Sam is somehow vouching for you.”

“I’m not vouching for them,” Sam said shiftily, “but it would be real nice to have a Badlands outpost out here…”

“You’re so disloyal,” Quackity huffed. “What does the Badlands have that Las Nevadas doesn’t? We even give out free vaccinations! Does the Badlands have healthcare? Have you even given Skeppy all his shots?”

“I’m illiterate,” Skeppy said, unhelpfully.

“You’re not backing me up,” Bad scolded him. “This is why I never bring you anywhere.”

“Well you never include me in your pyramid schemes,” Skeppy bit back. “Maybe if you loved me, I’d support you.”

Bad clapped a hand over his heart, staggering back. “Are you doubting my love? Are you calling me selfish again? Do you have any idea what I have done for you?”

“No,” Skeppy said primly. “And I don’t care. I’m moving out. We’re getting a divorce."

“Oh god,” Sam sighed.

“Someone get a relationship counselor,” Quackity muttered.

“They lasted five minutes,” Foolish counted, impressed.

Bad was spluttering indignantly, having completely disentangled himself from Skeppy to properly bicker with him. “This isn’t our house,” Bad argued. “Also we can’t get a divorce, we’re not even married.”

Skeppy rolled his eyes, then dropped down on one knee. “Fine. Will you marry me?”

Bad covered his mouth. “Oh my goodness, I’ve been waiting for this moment--”

Skeppy stood up. “Great. Now we’re getting divorced.”

“You are so rude,” Bad gasped. “You are a horrible, horrible person and y’know what? I’m gonna say it. I think I preferred when you were red.”

“That is too far.” Skeppy’s hands flew up to touch the diamonds embedded on his skin. “You know blue looks best on me.” He crossed his arms. “I have half a mind to shut you up with a cactus.”

“Oh, please do, I’m tired of hearing his voice,” Sam said tiredly, and Skeppy snapped his head over to him.

“What did you just say about my best friend, you fuck--”

“Can we discuss my pay raise now?” Foolish asked Quackity, who face-palmed so hard, Foolish was surprised he didn’t hurt himself.

There were turtles in the pool. Foolish wanted a relaxing day off and there were turtles in the pool.

“This doesn’t seem very hygienic,” Puffy observed, flipping down her sunglasses. Bad looked at them innocently.

“Why are there turtles here now,” Foolish said flatly.

“Sheldon has developed a gambling addiction,” Bad said seriously. “The whole family had to move.”

“My pacifism doesn’t actually apply towards animals,” Foolish whispered to Puffy, who patted his arm and handed him a pamphlet of breathing techniques.

It wasn’t often that Ant and Foolish talked without the assistance of some sort of hallucinogen, but when Ant, eyes clear and blue, asked to help Foolish prepare concrete, who was Foolish to say no?

They worked in silence for a bit, Foolish crafting the concrete powder and Ant solidifying it in water. Finally, Ant paused as he was about to break the next block with his pickaxe, tail twitching nervously.

“I’m sorry about killing you.”

Foolish’s hands stalled on the crafting bench, chest tight. Ant set down his pickaxe, looking away.

“I know I’ve apologized before, but it still doesn’t seem enough.” Ant’s voice was quiet. “I know I could say it was just the Egg giving me orders--and it did--but that doesn’t really change the fact that you died. And that I was the weapon that killed you.”

“I never really blamed you.” Foolish’s tongue felt strangely thick, words forcing themselves out. “I knew you weren’t yourselves.”

“You still don’t trust me.” Ant tilted his head. “I don’t expect you, but...I miss talking to you.”

“Well.” Foolish pursed his lips. “I’m sorry too. I failed to save you before the Red Banquet.” Then, in a lighter tone, he added, “Maybe I should’ve offered you something better than whatever deal the Egg offered you.”

Ant laughed. “Don’t worry about it. You would’ve needed a lot of red velvet cake to convince me to leave.”

“Is there a joke I’m missing here?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Ant smiled good-naturedly. “I think all I could want now is to live a relatively stress-free life. Although, that might be too much to ask on the Dream SMP, especially since Bad and Sam are constantly thinking up plans.” He clicked his tongue. “Speaking of which--are you still figuring out how to take down the toll gate?”

“Yeah.” Foolish sighed. “TNT is still my last option, whether Quackity likes it or not. There really shouldn’t be that much damage to the land if I do so.”

“You might get a little carried away.” Ant picked up his pickaxe again and began to chip away at the set concrete. “I mean, I know I would.”

“Well, what would you propose?”

“There are other ways to take revenge on Bad,” Ant suggested. “For example, he still has that catmaid coupon for Hbomb…”

Yeah, if Foolish hadn’t forgiven Ant before, he definitely did now.

“You’re not being a rebound,” Ponk was telling Foolish at the back of the strip club. Foolish wasn’t quite sure how he ended up here, nor why Wilbur was strumming on a guitar as Quackity danced around a pole. “You’re helping me get psychological payback on my ex.”

“That sounds like a rebound,” Foolish commented, sneaking an eye on Sam. He was dragging Ant out of the club by his ear, probably to ask him why Bad had attempted to set up a new toll gate in front of the strip club without knowing it was a strip club. “I have some self respect.”

“Okay, no fake dating.” Ponk rolled his eyes. “We’ll go back to murder, then.”

Wilbur was now tearfully singing about hamburgers. Quackity had started shedding his clothes, but only his arm’s left sleeve. Fundy looked like he wanted to dissolve into the floor. “I need a new place to spend my Friday nights,” Foolish muttered.

It was snowing. Looking at the desert sand’s cruel imitation of warm days made Foolish long for the sun above his summer home. Instead, he was sitting inside the toll gate booth, legs drawn up to his chest in the cramped space, taking refuge from the snowflakes

Bad rubbed his hands together, breath puffing out in the cold air. Bad, despite his love for chaos, was soft at heart, and Foolish wasn’t surprised that he took one look at Foolish building in the snow and let him warm up inside his small booth.

“If I had a warm drink, I’d offer it to you,” Bad told him. He was perched on top of a chest, across from Foolish. “But I really only have some stale bread.”

“i’ll take some stale bread,” Foolish replied absentmindedly. He hadn’t eaten breakfast today.

They ended up splitting a loaf, chewing absentmindedly as they watched the snowflakes fall down. Las Nevadas was quiet and unusually empty. It was nice, in a hollow sort of way.

“I would much rather be at L’sandburg right now,” Bad murmured. “If only someone didn’t blow it up.”

“L’sandburg was on you,” Foolish accused him. “Even if I made my mistakes, you’re the one who kept escalating it.”

Bad’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “Maybe. But your summer home was too empty without it.”

“You could’ve visited me without stealing my land,” Foolish mumbled.

Bad hesitated. “...Could I have?”

There was a stretch of silence between them. The Red Banquet. Foolish’s death. The apology and subsequent forgiveness that never came. “Bad,” Foolish said softly. “We were friends. Why are we doing this?”

“Maybe neither of us want to acknowledge the scope of our trauma and wrongdoings so we’re taking it out on each other in the hopes that everything will go back to normal,” Bad suggested.

“Oh.” Foolish took a bite out of his bread. “Well. Muffins.”

“Muffins,” Bad agreed.

They watched the snow fall together. It wasn’t so bad.

“I’m thinking of building a lemon tree out here.” Ponk framed a spot of land with his fingers as the two sat on top of the Supreme Fridge. It was night, the breeze cool on Foolish’s skin. He missed the sea. “Las Nevadas is missing a lemon tree.”

“Want me to help you build it?” Foolish asked idly.

“You don’t need to.” Ponk flopped down, back flat on the fridge, staring up into space while Foolish stared down at the Las Nevadas lights. “We can take a trip to gather wood together.”

“Sure.” He could use a break. “I don’t know how I feel about another unplanned building cropping up around here, though.”

“I don’t see why you care so much,” Ponk said bluntly. “This isn’t your land, it’s Quackity’s.”

“Well…” Foolish bit his lip. “You’re right, I guess. It isn’t mine. I’m just building on it.” Those buildings weren’t his, either, for that matter. They felt empty, didn’t they? Just like Kinoko Kingdom and the mansion.

“Aren’t you doing the same thing you’ve been doing for Ranboo and Tubbo? Working under contract?” Ponk shrugged. “Why don’t you just join in on the chaos?”

“I am joining in on the chaos,” Foolish insisted. “By blowing that damn toll gate to the ground.”

“And then the chaos is gone,” Ponk countered. He sat back up and swung his legs over the edge of the fridge, letting them dangle. “Just hear me out on this.”

“Go on,” Foolish said dubiously.

“We made a deal with Bad,” Ponk explained, “Remember? Before I took him and Puffy to court? We called it the Super Umbrella Scheme. We agreed we would run toll gates all throughout the SMP”

“S.U.S.” Foolish snapped his fingers. “That was an excellent name. We’re so great at that.”

“So what I’m saying,” Ponk continued, “is that we technically have ownership of that toll gate too. Actually, that toll gate is the only thing you own in Las Nevadas.”

“So that means,” Foolish started.

Ponk’s teeth gleamed as he grinned. “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.” He winked. “Might as well profit off your boss while you’re at it, too.”

“No.” Quackity crossed his arms. “Absolutely not. I hired you, Foolish, to build and fight. I did not fucking hire you to try and scam me with a toll gate on my own fucking land.”

“Language,” Bad said benignly, pointing to the toll gate sign. “A golden apple or your kneecaps are next.”

Foolish inclined his head. It was a tight fit with the three of them--Bad, Ponk, and himself--crammed into the small booth, but it worked well enough. “What he said.”

“We can accept alternate payment,” Ponk interjected. “A nice compliment for each of us is also sufficient.”

“I think I would rather waltz with Technoblade,” Quackity said dryly.

“So, a golden apple then.” Bad held his hand out and cocked his head. “Please.”

“This is ridiculous,” Quackity muttered to himself. He stood up a little straighter, directing his attention to Foolish. “Foolish, I’m still willing to forgive you,” he said graciously, “as we all make mistakes sometimes.”

“You literally watched me die, then used my death as a sales pitch,” Foolish said.

“We all make mistakes sometimes,” Quackity repeated, louder. “Finish up building the road and maybe I won’t fire you.”

Foolish was a god. He was a builder. He was scouring, every day, for the path that felt right under his worn feet. And he also really liked getting rich.

“Let’s make it two golden apples,” he decided, “because you’re kind of being rude.”

Quackity groaned. “Fine, fine.” He drew a book and quill from his inventory, scribbling a few words, before handing it to Foolish. “There. An IOU. I’ll pay you back later. Satisfied?”

Foolish held up the book. “This good enough?” he asked Ponk and Bad.

Ponk shrugged. “I don’t mind starting him on a tab.”

Bad swung open the gate. “Have a good day,  Mr. Quackity!” he said cheerfully, and Quackity flipped them off as he left. Bad, pointedly ignoring the gesture, turned to look back at Ponk and Foolish, satisfied. “We’re making a profit!”

“I still want a compliment.” Ponk rested his chin in the palm of his hand. “We should start charging gold next.”

“This place needs some sprucing up first,” Foolish commented, tapping on the walls. “I’m really not a fan of sandstone.”

“Oh, really?” Bad asked, smiling a little. “You’re gonna start another project then?”

Foolish huffed out a laugh. “Yeah,” he said, “I guess I am.”