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Dream had been having a good day.
Everything had gone to plan. He’d done some mining for more netherite, and even though he’d only gotten two pieces of ancient debris, he still considered it a win in his book.
All that was left to do was to check on TommyInnit in exile.
That was where it had all gone so wrong.
“Quackity, wha-” Dream’s mouth fell slightly open at the sight.
Quackity was tugging at his freshly ironed red and white shirt, his mouth curled into a smirk. “Hey, it’s me, Tommyinnit.”
“You don’t even-” Dream rubbed his temples. “Quackity, you are clearly not Tommy. You don’t even sound like him.”
Quackity frowned at that. Thinking for a bit, he suddenly beamed wider than before. “It’s me, Tommy!” He insisted in a british tone. His accent was still rough around the edges, and Dream groaned.
“Look, get out of here. I’m not looking for trouble. Where’s Tommy?”
“I’m here,” Quackity bounced on his heels. “Me, I’m Tommy! Tommy is me! Do you want drugs? I love women!”
Dream aimed his crossbow at Quackity. “Leave, or I’ll make you.”
Quackity spluttered indignantly. He danced away, still screaming in a half-British, half-Mexican accent. “Fuck you, bitch!”
Dream had been having a good day.
He’d come round tomorrow. Tommy would be back then, and he’d ask him where the fuck he’d been and everything would be back to normal.
———————
Nothing was back to normal.
Dream hung around Logstedshire, casually tossing TNT into the air and catching it. Tommy still hadn’t shown up.
“Hello, Dream-bitch!”
Dream glanced up. He sighed. “Tubbo, that is literally you.”
“What do you mean?” The brown-haired teen fixed his wig- somehow a bright neon orange- and smiled brilliantly, the scarring on his face shining against the sunlight.
“Your wig doesn’t even look real!” Dream banged his heel against the ground in frustration. “Tubbo, leave. Where the fuck is Tommy?”
“Tommy- me! Tommy is me,” Tubbo stumbled through his words in obvious delight, digging through his inventory to find two sticks to hold. “See? I’m doing the stick thing!”
Dream stared at Tubbo. “Tubbo. Take your wig off and fuck off.”
“Rude, bitch! Do you want me to grief your house?” Tubbo shoved his sticks back into the inventory, quickly pulling out flint and steel instead. “Just give me the coordinates and I’ll prove that I’m Tommy right now.”
Dream also looked through his inventory, pulling out his diamond sword. It glinted menacingly, but Dream knew he couldn’t cause a war just yet. Stick to the plan. Just scare him off.
“Tubbo-” Dream began, but Tubbo wasn’t listening.
“Yeah, check this out!” Tubbo struck up a fire on the grass in front of him, chuckling in- Dream had to admit- a rather Tommyinnit-like way. “I’m fucking this place up!”
Dream extinguished the fire with his sword easily, Tubbo letting out a squeak in protest. “Okay, fine.” Dream rubbed his temples. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Tell Tommy to get his ass here, or he’s dead.”
“Fuck you!” Tubbo had somehow gotten the sticks out again, and he bapped Dream on the head. “Take that, bitch! Mi gusta!”
Dream couldn’t handle it. He left quickly, his mask disguising the utter frustration that rose in his heart like bile.
—————-
“Okay, ‘Tommy’. Nice hair.”
Dream folded his arms, his head cocked to one side.
“Ayu- Hello,” Jack Manifold patted his bright blue hair carefully. “Thank you.”
Dream scrutinised Jack. His bright blue wig was askew on his head, the bangs covering the top half of his eyes. “New hairstyle? What, did Ghostbur cut it?”
“Maybe he did,” Jack defended. “You never know.”
“Fuck off, Jack,” Dream glared tiredly. “I’m gonna rip your fucking wig off.”
“It’s not a wig,” Jack reeled backwards in mock disgust. “It’s a- a new look.”
“Blue? Really, is this a Ghostbur thing?” Dream took a step forward, compensating for the amount of space Jack had increased between them.
“No, it’s- I’m going through a-” Jack finished lamely, “a mid-life crisis.”
“A mid-life crisis.” Dream repeated stonily.
Jack looked up worriedly at Dream, his red-and-blue glasses unable to hide his look of fear. “Yeah?”
Dream weighed a sword on his hand. “Jack?”
Jack swallowed audibly. He made one last ditch attempt to keep up pretenses. “Pogchamp?”
Dream pointed the sword at him. “Go.”
Jack didn’t wait for a second warning. He turned away, though not before screaming one last thing.
“Subscribe!”
—————-
“Hello, Dream!”
Dream, who had been watching Jack’s retreating back, turned with vague surprise. “Well, speak of the devil, Ghostbu-”
He stopped.
Ghostbur was there in all his translucent glory, but he was decked out in a too-large red and white shirt, beaming excitedly. “I’m Tommy!”
A robed man walked up beside him. “Tommy, I told you to wait for me to be ready.” Philza fucking Minecraft.
Dream glared at Philza. “Philza. Hi. Mind explaining why ‘Tommy’ is here?”
“Isn’t he supposed to be here?” Philza replied innocently, his blonde hair fluttering in the wind. “He’s in exile, mate.”
“Really? You too?” Dream adjusted his mask, trying to calm himself down. “Alright, fuck this. Ghostbur.”
“Yeah?” Ghostbur smiled at Dream, his head bobbing slightly.
“Are you Ghostbur?”
“Uh huh!” Ghostbur confirmed, picking at his shirt distractedly. “I’m- I’m Tommy.”
“If you’re Tommy, then why would you respond to Ghostbur?” Dream objected.
Ghostbur’s smile faded. Confused, he turned to Philza. “Phil?”
Philza shrugged at Dream. “Oh, Ghostbur is Tommy’s street name, didn’t you know?”
“I don’t think I knew, no,” Dream muttered through gritted teeth.
“Phil,” Ghostbur said suddenly. “Phil, can we go check on Friend?”
“‘Course, mate.” Philza nodded at Dream. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”
“Bye bye, Dream!” Ghostbur waved, skipping away, his previous facade forgotten. “Have fun visiting Tommy!”
“I can’t find him, you dickhead,” Dream mumbled under his breath. He scowled at the empty Logsteashire.
He’d be back tomorrow.
————-
Dream arrived slightly late, having mined another few blocks of ancient debris. But his mind was far off, still on the empty tent that used to house TommyInnit. Where was he?
Maybe some part of him believed he would be back. Back for another hole for his armour. Back for Dream to manipulate, gaslight, twist into his puppet.
Then he’d cut the strings.
And yet…
“Bitch.”
Dream sat heavily on a log. “I could have sworn I saw you yesterday, ‘Tommy’.”
“Fairly sure you didn’t,” Philza replied, his green bucket hat tilted to keep the sun away from his eyes. The green-robed man hadn’t changed anything from his outfit, and yet he still stood there in front of Dream, his blue eyes with a tint of smugness.
“You don’t even look like-” Dream gave up. “You didn’t even try, Philza.”
Philza shrugged, not even attempting to maintain the façade. “Mm, Ghostbur wanted me to take a turn. He figured I’d ‘win’.”
He chuckled, “He still thinks we’re playing Charades with you.”
“So you admit it’s more than just a game?” Dream prodded.
Philza tilted his head lazily. “Now why would I tell you that, bitch? I’m TommyInnit.”
Dream threw his hands up. “Philza, I’m going to kill you.”
“You wish you could.” Philza lifted his chin with a touch of confidence, but Dream knew it was not misplaced.
And who knew? He might need Philza on his side.
He jumped up from his log lightly, balancing the sword on his shoulder. “See you, Philza.”
“Will you?” Philza returned, but he only watched as Dream left.
He would give up, but Dream couldn’t bring himself to. And perhaps, he was just a little bit entertained as well.
————
Dream was not entertained.
“I’m TommyInnit. I- I can remember things.” The awkward Enderman hybrid stood in front of Dream, Tubbo’s wig balanced on his head, barely concealing his black and white curls. “And swim! Yes, I can do that too.”
Dream didn’t hesitate. He picked a bucket out of his inventory.
“Dream? Dream. What are you-” Ranboo’s eyes widened. “Nuh. Nuh-uh. I’m Tommy, I can swim, you don’t need to test that theory out.”
“Leave.”
Ranboo stood his ground. “Fuck you. Uh, Pogchamp.”
Dream walked deliberately towards Ranboo. His bucket sloshed with crystal clear water.
“Dream!” Ranboo‘s voice was laced with panic now. “Fuck you! Come on, you don’t need- Dream, I’m Tommy. TommyInnit. That’s me.”
The Enderman hybrid screeched as Dream splashed half the bucket at him. He dodged, the wig almost coming off his head. He fixed it hurriedly. “Nope. I’m Tommy. Can’t fucking get me wet. Pussy.”
Dream raised the bucket, showing Ranboo the water remaining inside. “Let’s try again, shall we.”
————-
Dream heaved a sigh of relief. After several strategic splashes of his bucket, he’d finally been able to scare Ranboo off.
“Hello.”
Dream turned to another blond teenager- though not Tommy. “Purpled? What are you- You’re not even fucking dressed like Tommy.”
“I am blond.” Purpled blinked at him. “I am TommyInnit.”
“Those aren’t the only requirements to be Tommy,” Dream hissed.
“I am TommyInnit,” Purpled repeated, his face stoic.
“No, you’re not.” Dream felt his sanity slipping away.
“Yes, I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No, you’re n-” Dream cut himself off. He was arguing with a mere child. “Can someone just fucking tell me where Tommy is?”
“Right here.” Purpled blinked slowly and deliberately.
Dream stared at him a moment longer, then, he too, slowly and deliberately pulled out his sword.
—————
“Technoblade, you too?”
Dream couldn’t help but blurt out.
Technoblade was there, in all his robed glory. “I’m not Technoblade. I’m TommyInnit.” He hadn’t changed his outfit at all, and was instead holding a sign with the word ‘TommyInnit’ on it.
“What- what am I supposed to think of this, Techno,” Dream stated simply.
“Pogchamp. I’m British, too.” Technoblade added as an afterthought, ridicule evident in his words.
“You’re literally a pig.” Dream argued back.
“That’s kind of a rude thing to call the British.”
Technoblade shook his head at Dream.
“You’re fucking- what am I supposed to do, play along?”
Technoblade continued in a monotone voice. “Well, some people find me annoying at first…”
Dream ended up leaving, Technoblade simply staring at him, reciting a mantra of curse words with as little emotion as possible.
“Fuck. Bitch. Pussy. Fuck. Piss. Fuck. Bitch. Fuck. Fuck. Fu-”
—————-
Dream arrived back at Logstedshire- honestly, he had no idea why he was still trying- and waited around for a couple of hours. He was sure almost every SMP member had tried their luck at convincing him he was ‘TommyInnit’.
He thought he was safe.
“‘Ello, boys!”
Dream stared emotionlessly as Sapnap stopped in his tracks. “Well, not boys, there's only one of you, Dream, but-”
He looked up, his british accent overly thick. “Dream! Don’t forget to subscribe with Twitch Prime!”
“Sapnap- why-” Dream groaned.
“Have you seen the Queen?” Sapnap interjected. “She’s beautiful.”
“Who?”
Dream regretted the word as soon as it slipped out of his mouth as Sapnap’s face brightened gleefully.
Sapnap dug through his inventory, removing not one, not two, but six fucking pictures and piling them in his arms. “Behold.”
Dream watched, unimpressed- though a little curious.
He watched, his face stoic, as Sapnap placed them on the walls of Tnret.
He watched, horror filtering through his heart as they all materialised into different images of the Queen.
“Look at her, Dream. Really, look.” Sapnap smiled with longing, a fluffy blond wig covering his bandana. “She’s beautiful.”
Dream didn’t miss a beat. He tore an image off the wall, and lit it with a flint and steel. “Fuck this, Sapnap.”
Sapnap’s face twisted into a grimace of shock and disgust. “Dream. I cant fucking believe you fucking just fucking did that.”
“You’re trying too hard to be Tommy,” Dream felt the need to offer some advice. “He swears less.”
“Fuck that fucking shit. Don’t you fucking dare…” Sapnap’s eyes darted to the remaining images on the walls.
Dream eyed them as well, but had a different purpose in mind. He grabbed them off the wall, ignoring Sapnap’s shrill shriek of rage. “Leave if you know what’s good for these pictures.”
Sapnap seemed to be in a state of shock. “Dream. You fucking- I can’t fucking-”
Dream nodded at him, though he had no idea what he would do if Sapnap didn’t leave. Burning the pictures was already the given, but if Sapnap still didn’t leave? War actually sounded pretty good.
“Don’t hurt her,” Sapnap pleaded, scratching his wig absentmindedly.
“Then, leave!” Dream shouted, holding his flint and steel near the pictures.
“Okay! Okay,” Sapnap raised his hands in surrender. He backed away slowly. “Primes and women. Sheesh.”
——————
Dream couldn’t help but feel the most shocked about this.
“Schlatt- you’re supposed to be dead.”
Schlatt threw his head back and laughed. “You wish, Green Whore! Pogchamp or something! Primes!”
Dream gaped as Schlatt, dressed in a red and white business suit, swaggered towards him. “What?”
“I’m TommyInnit and I’m always high!” Schlatt introduced himself. “Do you want to pogchamp with me?”
“That’s not how you use the w-”
“Does it look like I fucking care?” Schlatt yelled, shocking Dream into silence. He cleared his throat. “How to Sex 4: Electric Boolag- Boogalour.”
Dream sank to the ground, his head in his hands. He remained there even as Schlatt rambled on, talking about chains and ropes and even the use of a kitten (Dream was glad he didn’t listen to that part).
Finally, the nightmare came to a stop. Dream opened his tightly-closed eyes, blinking wonderfully at the silence.
He raised his head, only to see Schlatt grinning menacingly at him, his nose inches away from Dream’s mask.
Dream couldn’t do it anymore. He simply couldn’t. He waited with bated breath as Schlatt’s mouth formed the one word he would never be able to hear again.
“Pogchamp!”
——————
“That’s how he died?”
“Yeah.”
Tommy- the real Tommy- gaped at Ghostbur. “Ghostbur, how do you- How did this happen?”
“Oh, Tommy. You still don’t see, do you?” Ghostbur was the most serious Tommy had ever seen him.
“What is there to see? Dream’s dead!” Tommy scoffed quietly, his feelings battling for attention. He scuffed the ground in front of Dream’s dead body with his heel. “I was gone for what- ten minutes? How-”
“Tommy. You still have so much to learn.” Ghostbur tilted Tommy’s chin towards him.
“Ghostbur, why do you sound so…” Tommy shrugged his hand off of him. “You sound like Wilbur. What’s wrong?”
“Look, Tommy.” Ghostbur whispered quietly, “Really, just look properly for once. What do you see?”
Tommy squinted. His eyes widened.
What he saw was an angle he had seemingly never looked at before. A certain perspective.
A fourth wall.
“Ghostbur, what is-” Tommy spluttered. “What-”
He turned around, and there was no one in sight. Tommy turned back in utter trepidation, trembling as his eyes fell on you.
You, reader. You and your obsession with Minecraft youtubers.
And he opened his mouth yet again, but was cut off by a booming voice.
“TODAY WE CODED MINECRAFT SO DREAM FUCKING DIES-”