Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"If you had a chance to go back, would you do it?"

The question comes from Karl, which is odd in itself.

Sapnap found him a week ago, wandering in the forest behind their home muttering nonsense and covered in dust and dirt and soot. Sapnap had been unable to get his attention or even to get his fiancé's eyes to focus on anything around them. It had taken some patience and careful steering and a bit of bridal-style carrying—all while trying to ignore Karl's mutters of "reunite the twins" and "we ride at dawn" and other such things—but eventually Sapnap was able to get the addled man settled into bed.

Sapnap had been so desperate that first night that he tried to reach out to Quackity, who did not answer. He pushes the hurt and betrayal under anger, and uses that angry energy to continue carrying for Karl even as pain eats away at his heart.

He messages George the next morning, who did answer. He has been bullying Sapnap into taking breaks and to not let himself waste away by Karl's bedside ever since.

He had been settled into the chair that lies in the corner of Karl's room, reading with more care than ever through a book George had found on odd ailments and their remedies. The first two read-throughs hadn't revealed anything, but maybe this third one-

And that's when Karl asks the question, looking right at him with more clarity than he's held in days.

"Karl!" He pushes himself off the chair, letting the book clatter onto the wooden floor behind him, forgotten. He nearly trips over himself as he rushes over to his side, and carefully takes one of Karl's hand into his own. "You worried me so much, man, what-"

"Answer the question." Karl says, voice desperate and something strange and dark and serious in his eyes. "If you had the chance to go back, would you do it?"

Sapnap blinks. "Karl, listen, you've been out of it for days. You gotta-"

"Please, Sapnap." Karl interrupts once more. "Answer it. Seriously."

"What are you..." His voice dies out, because he's never heard Karl sound like this, but he's holding his hand in a death grip and his tone sounds like he'll crumble and fade if Sapnap does not answer. "Back to when?" He asks instead.

"Anytime. Before Dream went to prison. Before the wars. Anytime. You pick."

Sapnap thinks for a moment.

"Yeah, I mean, I would be lying if I said I haven't thought about going back to before the revolution—the first one, before you and a lot of people were around—and knocking some sense into…" His eyes shift downward, focusing on their interlocked hands because eye-contact is too much while he says this, "...into Dream. Like, I've known him forever. I wonder if I had just said something or done something if I could have reached to him before he went...before I lost him."

"Okay. Before...before the first revolution." Karl repeats.

"Before Dream got Eret to turn, specifically." Sapnap agrees, nodding quietly.

"That's...that's better. Good. Hey, Sapnap?"

Sapnap looks back into Karl's eyes, which are suddenly that spiral of purple and green that’s always on his hoodie and glowing.

"I love you."

And then everything goes black.

It’s been a while since Sapnap thought about when it used to just be him, George, and Dream. When they stumbled into these unclaimed lands and worked to make it to a permanent safe haven from everything that hunted them. He remembers falling asleep to George and Dream whispering about codes and connecting to the world. Dream had been blessed with an affinity for connecting to the code that surrounded them and created their universe and George had apparently studied it before they met him. 

Sapnap for his part had no affinity or study in it, and frankly little interest. While they were distracted he explored and built and hunted. That’s not to say the other two of the trio did nothing, but until they were able to cut this land off from the general lands and into their own protected server, Sapnap had to be the one to patrol and protect it until the code could do it without them.

There had been more than one occasion where Dream and George offered to teach him, to give him the powers that they had been gifted and taught. He declined. It was...too much for him. Too much responsibility. Too much that he could screw up. 

Dream was going to be the admin, of course. While George’s skills were nothing to scoff at, there’s an edge those gifted with the affinity at code will always have.

He remembers when they got it all done. When Dream’s body glowed a bright green and suddenly there were two of him, identical, until they were different.

His copy disappeared into the world, faded into the code to watch over everything that a Player cannot—part Dream but now, in a way, also part god.

He remembers crushing his two best friends in a hug, as they laughed and cried and just basked in the feeling of safety that now encompassed them because no one could get to them now, not without having to break the walls and walls of code that now enveloped them. He remembers Dream pulling out his new admin panel and showing them all their world and everything it now had, name and all.

Essempi’i—their safe haven.

(Oh, how it did not stay that way.)

(Oh, how fast good things can go bad.)

The day that changed everything wasn’t a day of a festival, or a prisoner being locked away, or of a country being blown up, regardless of what anyone might think.

It was the day when Dream sat across from him and George, and told him that he’s taking this revolution not as a joke or a little rebellion, but as a declaration of war.

It was in how Sapnap’s body felt like it went alight because they haven’t done a hunt in a while and he’s been aching for some adrenaline, it was in how George had smirked something dark and asking what their plan was for victory.

It was in how none of them realized that Dream was in far deeper than they thought until he could not be pulled back.

Sapnap is sitting across from Dream, with George at his side. Punz is there too, as he is wont to do—lurking in the shadows, no allegiance except to the money that Dream gives him.

Dream says, “Let’s show them what real war is.”

George says, “I’m down to teach them not to mess with us.”

Sapnap is supposed to say “I’m ready to show them what they’re against.”

Sapnap instead says, “They’re just kids, man.”

And, suddenly, everything stops.

He’s immediately aware of everything, whereas before a dreamlike ignorance had coated him and all his surroundings. He’s in a room poorly put together of a mismatch of many different materials—Dream put it together, he remembers. He’s not the best at building, especially when he has no reason to care about aesthetics.

Adrenaline floods through his system as he’s suddenly aware that Dream’s here, actually here—no prison, no lives lost, no lust for power that has killed everything Sapnap recognized as his friend. 

Dream’s here, and so is George and Punz. They’re here and talking about the rebellion like it’s newly happened, and Sapnap is here too as if this wasn’t ancient history.

"If you had a chance to go back, would you do it?"

Oh Karl. Sapnap thinks. What have you gotten yourself into?

“C’mon Sapnap.” Dream says, his voice adapting what will eventually become the silky and toxic tone of manipulation. But it’s not. It’s not that yet. “Don’t you want to-”

“No.” He says, before the tendrils of anything can cloud his mind. Before he can hesitate or doubt or let anything go the way it did. “I don’t. What you’re talking about—real war? If that’s what you’re looking for, I’m out.” He answers truthfully. He answers what he thought so long ago for him yet never said, never let himself say.

He sees Punz stand up a bit more, clearly interested in the changes. It doesn’t really affect him, after all—he’s paid upfront.

“Don’t be dramatic.” George scoffs. “It’s nothing we haven’t done to each other.”

“Yeah, but we’re consenting adults with a full understanding of the risks and dangers.” He points out. “You think that Tubbo knows what’s to come? Do you think Tommy’s going to be cool with losing a life for this?” He shakes his head. “We did it for fun. They’re doing it because they feel like it’s the only way to be safe.”

“They’re disobeying our laws.” Dream reminds him. “They’re starting their own nation. We have to show them-"

“What? That we’re no better than those who hunted us?” The room is immediately drenched in icy silence, but Sapnap pushes on, pushing up to stand on his feet, his hands on the table as he stares down his still-friend. “Because that’s what happened to us, if you don’t remember. We disobeyed, and were subsequently hunted down, and I don't think any of us really recovered from that."

It's quiet. Silent. Thoughtful, shocked, considering—there's so much that fills the air, but none of it is noise.

"Sapnap's right." George says, after a long time. "I don't—yeah, I'm not comfortable with this."

Dream is quiet, unreadable to any besides those who have known him the longest. Sapnap can tell he is deep in consideration, mentally reviewing all of his actions and thoughts about what has happened and what is to come.

"Punz." He says. "You're dismissed. Thank you."

Punz looks them all over, considering and more than a little surprised, before shrugging and leaving without a word.

When the door swings shut, Dream reaches back, unclasps his mask, and looks at his two oldest friends with nothing between them.

Sapnap sees regret in those eyes, and something inside him knows that he has changed everything.

They end up having a meeting, Dream and Wilbur. Each is allowed another with them, and everyone knows without saying that that means that Wilbur will bring Tommy.

What was surprising to Sapnap was that Dream chose him in the place of George.

Sapnap isn't insecure of his position in the trio. He knows that they are all friends in different ways with different methods of interacting and showing that they care. He knows that he is point of the group in hunting, second in fighting, and third in talks and negotiations.

George is the best of them at negotiations. There's something about him that makes people want to listen and respect them. In Sapnap’s timeline, Dream is only able to counter that with manipulation and toxicity that starts to choke everyone around him, but even then Sapnap could tell he was falling short. He has to force people to listen to him. George, if he wishes, does not need to make anyone do anything. They just will.

For Dream to not choose George is very, very out of character. He says as much, especially when the day comes and George does not even look surprised at the development.

Dream looks at him, and Sapnap can feel the gaze through the mask that separates them and something inside him shivers at the difference between who he is and who he could have been—who he had been, until Sapnap was able to step back through time and change things.

"You're the worst at negotiations because of how much you feel, Pandas." Dream says. "You can't hide how you feel. You're the most human of all of us. Right now, I need someone to help me remember people rather than someone to help me manipulate them."

And it's so, so far from the Dream that he left behind that something inside Sapnap aches.

"Plus," George drawls, traces of humor in his voice. "We need someone who's able to shout over Tommy."

"That too." Dream nods over Sapnap's splutters of disagreement.

The meeting goes surprisingly well.

Wilbur is not the mad terrorist, the shell who craved destruction and ruin. Tommy is not the traumatized child, yelling and flinching and barely standing. 

Dream isn't their manipulator and abuser, a madman bent on power and control.

This is Wilbur, the revolutionary ready to fight for what he thinks is right, and his naïve younger brother who is a kid who has never known war.

This is Dream, someone who just wants a home that's not fragmented and ripping at the seams.

This is Sapnap, who has already made his mistakes and will not do them again.

"I think," Dream says, and Sapnap can hear a bit of strain in his voice. It's well hidden, likely hidden from Tommy. Sapnap has no idea about Wilbur, but he knows the man has a silver tongue himself and might be able to detect what they think is hidden. "That we may have gotten off on the wrong foot."

The strain is from pride. They're all prideful, and now they have to swallow that. Sapnap has made peace with that, and clearly Dream has resolved himself in a similar fashion, but some things are harder in practice than in planning.

Tommy goes to speak, but is quieted when Wilbur beats him to it. "What do you mean?"

"We do not seek war." Dream says. "And we ask that you do the same."

"You wish to open negotiations?" Wilbur says, his voice raising up in tone at the end in disbelief.

"We wish to reach an understanding." Dream corrects, and Sapnap is already tired of them dancing around each other, words curling around them as they pick and choose specific ones to try and gain an advantage, so he does what he does best.

He elbows Dream sharply in the side, ignores his surprised yelp, and steps in front of him.

"What he's trying to say is that he was scared and you guys were scared, and we all started lashing out when this is supposed to be a chill place. So now, it's time for us to talk about it like adults rather than immediately going crystallized." He says bluntly.

"You guys pussied out." Tommy summarizes to himself, and Sapnap can feel Dream's hackles rise behind him.

"If it's ‘pussying out' to not want to start a war, then sure." He admits freely, pride already shorn by all the trauma and hurt and betrayal he's had to suffer at another time. "Honestly speaking? We've been in your shoes, but on a larger scale. We tried to stand up against what we saw as oppression, got hurt, and after years on the run we were able to make this place. This is our safe haven, where we came to escape that kinda thing. So, yeah, I'm willing to be seen as a pussy to preserve that."

There is quiet, for a bit. Not even Tommy produces a sound.

Then: "I think we can come to an agreement." Wilbur says.

Finally, Sapnap allows himself to hope.

They drop talk of countries and revolutions and rebellions. 

What would be a thrice-doomed country becomes a shopping center, known most famously for their potions. Tommy bounces between work there and work at his own shop of miscellaneous items, which is more like a place to barter than a place to buy. He also sometimes finds time to help out Eret at their boutique, because somehow they’re the only two people in the land that knows how to sew.

Niki opens a bakery destined to flourish, and Sapnap briefly wonders if world peace could be achieved through baked goods.

Tubbo and Fundy co-run a redstone service, and Sapnap can tell Sam is going to join their ranks sooner rather than later even if no one has said as such. It would be nice to see him work on a project with the complexity of the prison without any of the implications of needing such a place.

Karl comes to him again one night after everything has settled. His Karl.

"You did this." Sapnap says, not accusatory but simply stating a fact. His once-fiancé gives him a smile as he shakes his head.

"You did this." He corrects. "I tried and tried and lost my mind doing it. I didn't realize it wasn't the timing that mattered, it was the people." He reaches up and places a gentle hand on Sapnap's cheek. "It was you, firecracker."

It feels too much like a goodbye. He says that.

"It is." Karl sighs. "The now-me will arrive, and then that's it. I'm gone. You enjoy this version of me, okay? Don't think of it like—there's no abandoned timeline or anything. That place stopped existing when you fixed it. You're not leaving anyone behind. I'm going to peacefully integrate into the Karl of now, without memory of everything else, and that's it. The memories will live on in you, but the people will live here because you made it possible."

There's a lump in Sapnap's throat. "I'm still going to miss you."

Karl smiles, and leans in to press their foreheads together. "That's why I love you. You keep that big heart of yours beating, okay? You gotta seduce me and Quackity again."

He lets out a wet chuckle.

"Bye, Karl."

Karl smiles. "See you around, Sapnap.”

Chapter Text

taking inventory: open your inventory

L’Manburg looks far nicer as a shopping district than as a blown-up country, in Sapnap’s opinion.

It’s interesting to see how people interact without all the pain and betrayals and wars. He’s forgotten what it’s like to see the playful dynamic between George and Wilbur, the faux flirting that if left uninterrupted escalates until either the two break character and dissolve into giggles or they start arguing over something obscure. 

It’s objectively hilarious to see the two people who could probably sway armies with their words dropping into impromptu roleplay in the middle of the street, typically until Tommy inserts himself in and starts telling Wilbur he’s not “good enough” for George.

He didn’t see Wilbur’s fall, but he did see what happened to George. He knows everyone assumed he was unaffected by everything, utterly apathetic, but Sapnap knows that that was just what George wanted people to see. He knows that what happened to Dream hurt more than he would ever let anyone see, and retreated behind an icy exterior as a result. 

Even when he was helping Sapnap tend to Karl he was still more hidden away than Sapnap had ever seen him. Gone were the wisecracks and small smirks, replaced by much harsher chastising that would have hurt if Sapnap didn’t know that the other man was just trying to hide how much he cared.

It’s also interesting to see Punz’s interactions with the community. He had previously rarely talked to the mercenary unless it was about business. Now, he sees the man pretty regularly, most often frequenting Niki’s bakery as he apparently has an insatiable sweet tooth.

He also didn’t know that Punz and Purpled were close. He’s unsure if they’re brothers or friends or even just coworkers--it seems to vary based on the time and their moods. It doesn’t really matter though in the end, he guesses. No one in Essempi’i seems to have cleanly defined relationships.

But yeah, things are generally far better in this timeline. He initially felt guilty for his interactions with Quackity and Karl here--it almost feels like cheating, in a way, to know so much about them from a time that now never was. 

He still feels a bit of guilt, as misplaced as it might be. However, he’s not dramatic like a lot of his friends tend to be. He’s not going to punish himself for what’s happened.

No, he’s instead going to channel it. Anger into sparring, guilt into displays of affection. He doesn’t stop himself from pursuing Quackity early here. Before that whole mess of an election happened first, with Schlatt’s presidency a poison in the air. Now, he does not restrain himself. 

He takes Quackity on dates. He listens to Karl’s rambles. He sits with them both in fields and on mountaintops and by lakes and makes this new timeline something good .

He still grieves for his original timeline, but that’s not going to stop him from living in this one. He’s never been one to sit idly by--he’s someone who gets things done. Sometimes it’s rushed or poorly thought out or foolhardy but he’s of the opinion that trying and failing is better than not trying at all.

They didn’t all suffer just for that suffering to follow them across time. No, he’s going to make sure all that shit lives only in his memories. Nothing bad from then is going to infect this new, perfect time.

(Well, he knows it’s not actually perfect. It just seems that way because the problems are on such a smaller scale. It’s hard to see conflicts as bad when they’re on the level of arguments and miscommunication and not psychopaths and torture and dozens of Withers crowding the sky.)

(He’s willing to stay blind to those imperfections, at least for the time being. He knows it’s wrong and probably unhealthy but he just… needs this, okay? Needs some time pretending like nothing can go wrong because he’s so used to living where everything already has.)

getting wood: punch a tree until a block of wood pops out

Sapnap’s been more…punchy lately.

George is used to the roughhousing his two best friends get into. It’s hardly odd to see Dream and Sapnap grabbing at each other, whether it be to noogie or just jab at the other with no discernable goal. They all spar, although George admittedly less than the other two.

He keeps up with his training and endurance, but he doesn’t see the appeal of fighting that Dream and Sapnap seem to have. He’s content to sit off to the side when his exercises for the day are done, watching the two grapple and tackle each other while shouting out heckles and jeers. One time he threw a splash potion of leaping on them to try and make things interesting. 

(It had, in fact, made things very interesting.)

But Sapnap’s been strange. He’s been off ever since the war that almost was. George and Dream haven’t directly talked about it, but he knows that they’re both wondering if their bloodthirstiness fundamentally broke something in their relationship with the third part of their trio.

Sapnap just hasn’t been the same since then. Case and point: punchy.

He was on a walk with Wilbur when they happened upon the sight. He never thought he’d befriend the man, but their humor can be remarkably similar at times. They’re the same age, and with Sam they’re the oldest ones on the server. There’s a sense of solidarity there--a sort of big-brother instinct that they all have and can lament about the shenanigans all the “kids” get up to, regardless of if the “kid” is a year younger or a decade.

(Well, the oldest excluding Bad…but that’s a different case. Bad refuses to admit his age, but George knows that there is zero chance that he’s younger than any of them.)

Wilbur actually spots him first, cutting himself off mid-sentence with a “Is that Sapnap?”

It is. It’s one of his best friend’s standing there punching a tree like he doesn’t have a diamond axe strapped to his back, glistening with enchantments. Even from a distance, his knuckles look red. The tree bark looks red. He’s been at this for a while.

“Hey, Sapnap.” George calls, quickening his pace. “What the hell are you doing?”

George knows that sometimes his tone sounds cold or uncaring. Any attempt he’s tried in the past to fix it just makes him come off as even more condescending or insincere, so he’s long since stopped. Besides, his best friends have reassured him and proven that they understand what he means on more than one occasion. 

Sapnap doesn’t seem to hear him. He keeps punching the tree.

He calls again. No response. A third time doesn’t help either. 

He reaches out and snatches Sapnap’s axe first, throwing it to the ground before he does anything else. He doesn’t know the details and science behind trauma or mental health issues, but he knows what to look for and what to do with his friends. He knows that disarming Sapnap is the first thing to do.

Sure enough, the next thing he’s doing is ducking to avoid a punch himself. It’s wild, reckless, sloppy. He doesn’t even have to think before he’s sweeping Sapnap’s legs out from under him, pinning him down. 

“Sapnap.” He says, his voice sounding calm to his own ears even when he’s anything but. “Breathe. It’s George.”

Sapnap’s breathing is quick from both exertion and panic, but his glassy eyes focus on George. He blinks a few times.

“My hands.” Sapnap says, voice rough. “My hands are wrong.”

“Sapnap.” George repeats. “Are you with me?”

Another ragged inhale. A shaky nod.

“Who am I?” George demands.

“George.”

“What time is it?”

A squint, dark eyes flickering to look past George at the sky. “Early morning. Almost noon.”

“If I let you go, are you going to start hitting things again?” 

“No.”

George looks at him carefully for a moment, before sliding off of his friend. He glances at Wilbur as he stands. The other man is standing there, decidedly not looking at the two of them. The axe looks awkward in his hands. It’s probably too heavy for him. George distantly remembers one time where he nearly tripped after swinging the thing, not expecting the momentum to be so strong. 

He helps his friend up and examines his bloodied knuckles carefully. His hands are…not great. They remind George of when they first arrived around here. Sapnap would frequently slip off, going on patrols of the land and come back hours later exhausted, bruised, and bloodied. He’d grin at them, though, a wide smile that would tug at split lips and black eyes and let them know that they’re safe.

Sapnap has always been a protector. 

(“Because that’s what happened to us, if you don’t remember. We disobeyed, and were subsequently hunted down, and I don't think any of us really recovered from that.")

Sapnap has always been a protector, and George doesn’t know what that’s cost him.

“C’mon,” He says, lightly tugging his friend’s hand. “Let’s head back.”

benchmaking: craft a crafting table with four blocks of wooden planks

Wilbur has always been skilled at crafting. People said it was unsurprising if you knew who his father was, but Wilbur crafted more than just material goods. He was a wordsmith. He knew the value of tone and volume and pauses.

He knew the value of passionate truth and careful lies.

He loves talking with the people here. George, and his smooth voice and eyes that betray absolutely nothing. Dream, and his words that can be falsely honeyed or poisonous one second and then bright laughter and warm jokes the next. Eret, with his deep voice and quiet yet strong resolve to help others. 

He had been surprised when he was called to meet with Dream when they were at the brink of war, and Sapnap had been the one at Dream’s side. Sapnap, who he’s never seen a reason to hide any of his feelings. Even then, the man’s body and eyes had given away so much.

He remembers starting a careful, calculating dance of a conversation with Dream, trying to see what the man was planning, to see if he was trying to trick them into letting their guard down and please, please don’t be. 

He remembers Sapnap breaking that dance and speaking with no thought behind his words, only heart.

"What he's trying to say is that he was scared and you guys were scared, and we all started lashing out when this is supposed to be a chill place. So now, it's time for us to talk about it like adults rather than immediately going crystallized."

(Wilbur has always been skilled at crafting. He was thoughtful, creative, inventive.

But he found himself far more interested in what Sapnap would help them build. It was only fair for him to pay attention, after all, as this was the man that had cleared the chessboard with a sweep of the arm and then put down an entirely new game.)

time to mine: use planks and sticks to make a pickaxe

Tommy’s very proud of his shop, Bits and Pogs, even if the name isn’t what he initially planned it to be. Wil had said that it had been “ridiculously long” and “not even a name but a description”. He’d planned on saying fuck you and keeping the name, but then Wil had offered a bunch of alternatives and one of them just stuck. 

His store is a mess. It’s primarily cobblestone, but with various other blocks mixed in here and there. There’s absolutely no organization or set prices. One day he gave a diamond to Tubbo for free and then bullied Dream into giving him a stack of iron for a stick. 

It’s…fun. He’s found that he’s finding himself exploring more to just find little trinkets to either hide away or put proudly on display. He’s never been one for mining or any source of resource grinding, but now he’s sitting in a ravine with Tubbo and Sapnap, spelunking just for the hell of it.

It’s…nice. Tommy likes Sapnap. He’s not as bitchy as Dream and he doesn’t get all gross with Wil like George (even if Gogy is incredible, shut the fuck up if you think otherwise). 

He remembers the look in Wil’s eyes, when war was on the horizon. He remembers the looks Niki and him and Eret would all share when they thought he wasn’t looking. He remembers them all going on with his jokes but then Wil sitting him, Tubbo, and Fundy down and explaining that if the Dream Team really were serious about this all then there’s a chance for it to be real. 

(He had to sit there and listen to Wil tell them what they should do if he dies.)

And then it was all over, a false alarm, and Tommy got to build his shop.

("If it's ‘pussying out' to not want to start a war, then sure.")

So yeah, Tommy likes Snipsnap, especially because his name is so fun to fuck around with.

Even if the man can get a bit… clingy at times.

Tubbo’s pick breaks in his hands unexpectedly, and he makes a little sound of surprise. Suddenly, Sapnap’s next to them, keeping his distance but also looking over them both so carefully. 

“Everything okay?” He says, with such bullshit casualness in his voice.

“Yeah,” Tubbo says, already moving over to the crafting table they set up to make a new one. “Just caught me off guard.”

Sapnap nods, but doesn’t move. He shares a look with Tubbo. They’ve both noticed how Sapnap hovers around people, but keeps a careful distance around them. Like he’s worried about getting in their space and making them uncomfortable. It’s weird, because before the war-scare Sapnap was unafraid to ambush one of them from behind and heave them over his shoulders and spin wildly just to be a general chaotic shit. 

Tommy complained about it to Wil one day, wondering why Sapnap was being such a sketchy bitch. Wil had gone all quiet for a moment, before saying that Sapnap was trying to make them feel comfortable. 

(Tommy had already forgotten that there had been a moment in time where it wouldn’t have been unlikely to see Sapnap standing over Wil’s corpse, his axe plunged into his brother’s chest.)

Tommy had talked to Tubbo about it, and the two had hatched their own brilliant plan.

Tommy charges Sapnap, and in a jump and a flurry of movement has himself attached to the man’s back.

“I’m tired.” He announces loudly. “You’re my bitch now. Giddyup, bitch.”

Sapnap had been tense when Tommy charged, like he thought Tommy was attacking him and was keeping himself a wall instead of getting ready to strike back. He had stayed stone-still as Tommy climbed him and pulled his hair and elbowed his ribs and probably gave him a few bruises. Now, though, Tommy feels the man relax, and he shoots Tubbo a victorious grin. Tubbo gives him a nod back, a silent I knew you could do it, big man.

Of course he could. Plus, with their combined height, Tommy can reach some of the glow lichen up the side of one of the walls of the ravine. Score.

hot topic: construct a furnace out of eight cobblestone blocks

Fundy loves messing around with redstone. Sure, the dust stains his paws and gets all over his fur and can be a bitch and a half to line up properly, but something about it just clicks with him. It just makes things simpler in an incredibly complex way. Like, yes, he’s spent weeks or months on a project, but once it’s done it’s done. It’s in motion. Whether it be a door or a track system or a set of note blocks to play a certain song, it’s built. He’ll have to tune it up or replace parts eventually, but the structure is there. 

He’s currently setting up a super-smelter with Tubbo and Sam. It’s too big and needlessly complex and will likely never be used to its fullest potential, but that’s not the point. The point is that he’s having fun messing around with his friends doing something he enjoys and he doesn’t have to worry about a war taking away his father come morning. He’ll be able to wave at Dream and not worry the man is going to stab him anytime soon over politics.

The super-smelter was Sapnap’s idea, actually. The man had proposed it as something that can aid future builders, and said it with the confidence of a man who knows that there will be big builds in the future despite Fundy knowing there’s no plans for any. But, well, what was the harm in it? It’s a fun project and if some builders in the future are able to use it, then Fundy will be there next to Tubbo to grin and charm them to pay way more than is necessary.

Hey, just because L’Manburg isn’t independent doesn’t mean Fundy can’t start shit. It actually makes him feel like he can mess around more --like L’Manburg is a safe part of the Essempi’i and some people messing around won’t endanger that.

It’s…a nice feeling. One Fundy didn’t think he’d get to feel.

acquire hardware: smelt an iron ingot

Dream makes a point of using the super-smelter that he knows the redstone business in L’Manburg set up, even if it is stupid overpriced. It’s fun to barter and argue with Tubbo and Fundy and try to appeal to Sam’s logical side as if he’s not also a chaotic shit under all his seriousness. It’s freeing to laugh carelessly and chase Tommy around when he inevitably slips in and tries to pickpocket Dream for “daring to argue with Tubs, he’s a big man, you’re just a bitch”. 

It makes him forget his guilt, even if just for a few moments. 

He almost ruined this. 

“They’re just kids, man.”

(How had Dream let himself forget?)

It’d be wrong to say he’s thankful to Sapnap for his input, because that’s not really how they work. It’s just…who Pandas is. Blunt and caring and wild and free and a protector to anyone who needs protecting, even if it means him standing against his two best friends.

Dream wonders if he has that kind of strength. If it had been Sapnap and George bloodthirsty, whispering at him for war, would he have been able to deny them so clearly? Call them out unhesitatingly?

He thinks he would, sometimes. Other times, he thinks he wouldn’t. Dream knows he can be…obsessive, about the people he cares about at times. Desperate to make sure that they can’t slip away, won’t leave him, won’t disappear. 

He thinks that that obsession could lead him down some dark, bloody roads if he let it.

Sapnap-- Pandas --doesn’t have that though. He doesn’t have any deep-rooted need for those he cares about to like him back. He’s not afraid of their anger or scorn. He had interrupted Dream midsentence, and then proceeded to remind them that they were on the edge of turning into the people they hated and Dream…

(Dream remembered then, fear and anger and just the desperation of why, why us, why can’t you just leave us alone, we’re just kids -)

And Dream remembered why exactly they made the Essempi’i.

“Fine.” He says. “Here’s your diamonds.”

time to farm: use planks and sticks to make a hoe

Eret had never thought of themself as a farmer before the Essemp’i, much less thought of Sapnap as one. 

But here they are, out in a rather large field. There are a lot of different crops, each one set up in an odd way that Sam had laid out. It’s apparently to leave space for future redstone automation. Eret doubts that will happen anytime soon, with all the projects The Consparitors are up to. 

(No, Eret does not understand the name. The one time he saw Quackity ask both Tommy and Tubbo just jumped him. Literally. Quackity complained about his back for a week. So no, Eret will not be asking. He can live in pain-free but curiosity-filled ignorance.)

The farm was originally Niki’s, but as she lost time with the popularity of her bakery Eret had volunteered to take over. He enjoyed the quiet solitude working on the crops on the outskirts of L’Manburg offered. 

Well, not quite solitude. Sapnap regularly joins him, hoeing the fields and replanting seeds and generally just doing a lot of hard labor beside Eret, barely breathing a word. It’s unlike anything else Eret’s seen from the other man. There are no jokes or chatter or even complaints. 

Just, quiet and determined work.

When he gathered the courage to overcome the social awkwardness to ask about it one day, Sapnap had paused and looked off in the distance for a while.

“There are a lot of people here.” He says finally. “I will not let any of them go hungry.”

It was something Eret never really thought about, honestly. Gathering food wasn't really a community thing, outside of Niki’s bakery. Generally, you went out to scavenge food on your own or had a private farm. No one had ever had a farm large enough--

He suddenly remembers the expansions Sapnap had added to the farm over the past few weeks, remembered Sam talking about automation, remembered how Sapnap once looked him in the eye and said, “You really just want to help people, don’t you?”

“Oh,” The word escapes during his exhale, the vision Sapnap had been looking at finally coming to mind. A grin curls at his lips. 

Sapnap gives him a look, determined and knowing.

He had never thought Sapnap was the type to do something like this. Then again, maybe he should have. The main was a guardian through-in-through--not just in combat situations but also a defender of the childish joy the younger ones held and a protector of the peace the lands held. 

He wonders, not for the first time, what the younger man had seen to have eyes so old.

“Well then,” He says. “Let’s get back to work.”

bake bread: turn wheat into bread

Niki often wonders how she’s the only one to notice Sapnap’s sudden change. 

Well, maybe she’s not. Maybe she’s just the only one to realize that the near-war could not have been the only cause. She knows traumatic events can change someone, but the war never happened. The battles were never fought and no one was killed.

Yet Sapnap still looks like it did. He looks like he’s suddenly seen war and blood and battles and death. He looks at people like they’re going to be struck down in front of him or snap and try to kill him at any second. He looks at the kids with an unfathomable amount of guilt and sometimes looks at Wilbur and Dream with incredible amounts of fear. 

Not fear of what they’ll do to him, but fear of what they might become. What they might do to others.

Niki doesn’t understand what happened--doesn’t know if it’s possible for her to.

But she’s good at making things. So when Sapnap comes by, she always gives him a warm, fresh loaf on the house. 

She can’t do a lot. She’s not close enough to him or knowledgeable enough about emotions and trauma.

But she can give him some bread, handmade from dough and care. 

It’s not a lot, but it’s not nothing either.

the lie: 

“Oi,” Tommy calls to Sapnap one day, running up to where he and George are with Tubbo in tow. “How old are you?”

Huh. He’s probably-- “Twenty one I think.”

George, who’s been off to the side rummaging through a chest, pauses suddenly. He tries not to stare. Did he mess up his math? In his defense, he hasn’t exactly been living linearly.

“Old as shit.” Tommy nods matter-of-factly. “Basically elderly.”

“Bro I know right.” He agrees, playing along because that’s always more fun to him than arguing with the kid. “I’m basically a grandfather.”

“Grampnap.” Tubbo chimes in, and he looks like he’s about to continue before--

“We missed your birthday.” George says, and the three of them turn to face him. “You turned twenty one a few weeks ago and we didn’t do anything.”

Oh. Right. Birthdays.

(They hadn’t exactly been doing that for a while, near the end.)

He shrugs it off like it’s not a big deal and his heart doesn’t ache at the thought of potentially having a real birthday party with all of these people since the wars and deaths and betrayals didn’t happen. “Yeah, but we were busy.”

“A manhunt isn’t busy. You know we can reschedule those.” George protests, and the man looks genuinely upset. A bit ago that would have caused Sapnap to double-take, unused to the emotion showing blatantly on the man’s face, but he’s gotten used to it again.

“Yeah, but it’s a bitch.”

“It was your birthday?” Tommy interrupts shamelessly. “Happy birthday big man. Let’s do something! Tubbo, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Tubbo stares into Tommy’s eyes, and while he’s wearing that expression that makes it seem like he’s never had a thought in his life, Sapnap knows he’s concentrating deeply. “Sand.” He says gravely.

Tommy nods back, like that makes any sense at all. “Sand.” He repeats in the same tone.

“The hell?” Sapnap tries to interject, but they both turn towards him, just a second off from being eerily in sync.

“Don’t worry big man!” Tubbo smiles at him warmly. “You just go work on your shit. We’ve got this!”

The two then run away.

Sapnap blinks, then looks at George. “I’m very unnerved.” He tells his best friend. “And a bit threatened.”

“Consider it karma.” George replies, unsympathetic. “For not telling us about your birthday.”

He starts to protest, but George just grabs him by the arm and starts dragging him. “Yeah, yeah, save it for Dream and Bad when they find out.”

Oh. 

Oh no.

Dream will be bad. 

Bad will be worse. 

He regrets not considering this outcome, and lying to say he was twenty. Or redirecting Tommy and Tubbo, which can be easy if you do it right unless they’re being particularly stubborn on something.

But , he thinks as he’s being dragged away, it’s not all bad.

He’s happy that his biggest regret in this timeline is not lying about his birthday. Yes, he has regrets, but those are from a lifetime ago. He still experiences and feels them and remembers them in the dead of night or in the noon heat. 

But he’s using those to make this lifetime better, and this is a result of that.

He doesn’t quite mind having his biggest worry being whatever the two youngest members of the server are going to cook up for him. It might be messy and chaotic and maybe even annoying but--

But at least it’s here, in these lands untouched by war. At least it’s now, when the biggest disappointment is missed birthdays. At least it’s them, alive and whole and unscarred.

He’s regretted a lot of things, and while he does regret he didn’t lie about his birthday, it’s nowhere near his biggest regret.

It might actually be his fondest one.

the lie: bake cake using wheat, sugar, milk, and eggs