#quackity is bloody brilliant

[chapinii]

I know it was hinted at in the qsmp announcement trailer way back but I did NOT expect q!quackity and elquackity to EVER interact face to face. The quality of rp on this server is fucking phenomenal.

[flamedraco]

On that note, let's talk about shrike Quackity.

The first thing that ever got me thinking about Quackity as a shrike was the fic "how to spot a butcherbird" by nononameme-Library (sparrowsong07).

Sparrow had apparently written about Shrike Q before but I can't remember if I ever read that fic or not. As far as I can tell: This was the original creator of Shrike Quackity. Everyone say thank you to Sparrow because they were brilliant for thinking of it.

Shrike Quackity is an interesting concept to me because it adds another layer to his character and just fits. Both because of his Butcher Army arc and the idea of his turn to villainy being an almost self fulfilling prophecy in a way.

Quackity was a kind person who liked making people laugh, but imagine under all that, the jokes, the laughter, was the instincts of a predatory songbird. A songbird that wanted to hunt. To impale prey to make up for dull talons. A bird that wants to nest in brambles and thorns to defend itself, with the guts and attitude to rival a raptor, a bird of prey. That turns his arc from a steady decline, to the slow wear and tear of trying to repress violent instincts just begging to be released.

He is the leader of the Butcher Army. A shrike's namesake, specifically the Loggerhead and Northern shrikes, being Butcher Bird. A bird that uses its environment, its tools, to make up for its own weakness. A clever, cunning type of bird.

"Nature's Serial Killer," I remember reading once. Which makes sense. A shrike is the type of bird to display its brutality for multiple reasons. To mark territory, to attract mates, and to store its prey. Impaling smaller birds, insects, rodents on these sharpened points in nature. Northern Shrikes court their partners via mock chases, hunting their potential partner down until the other decides they've had enough. Loggerheads share food and hunt for their partners, again, attracting through their open displays of kills. Showing that they are a strong, successful hunter.

Shrikes are bloody and brutal little songbirds with a lot of attitude and generally unafraid to try and take on threats that are much bigger than them. They're the kind of bird that gives me that same "I've drank five redbulls, snorted a line of crack, and I'm ready to fight god or die trying" energy that Quackity does.

It works especially well because usually I slot him into a more "villainous" role in my stories. Villain, demon, etc. Generally a creature or title that implies more malicious intent.

This is the same guy who canonically ate the heart of a past lover and tortured a man just because he could.

Also I find the idea of him chasing Wilbur around and calling it romantic funny. Sooo, there's that.

It's not my fault shrikes are the yanderes of the bird world /j

[err0r-t4ken]

PRISON LOGS: RECORDING TWO

CWS: TORTURE, CANNIBALISM, BLOOD, BODY HORROR, INHUMANE CONDITIONS, DEHUMANIZATION

— THE FOLLOWING IS A TRANSCRIPT OF CAMERA #001, LOG 09099, DAY 70. THIS IS ONLY INTENDED TO BE FOR THE USE OF KEEPING THE PRISONER IN LINE. THIS TAPE IS NOT LEGALLY BINDING AND MAY NOT BE USED IN ANY LEGAL PROCEEDINGS, AS EVIDENCE FOR OR AGAINST ANY OF THE PEOPLE WHO APPEAR ON SCREEN. ALL ACTS SEEN ON THESE TAPES HAVE BEEN VERIFIED BY THE WARDEN AND THEREFORE ARE LAWFUL. COMMENCE TRANSCRIPTION:

The lava drops from in front of the platform and the automatic wall comes up, things are running as they should. A figure enters, he stands out against the grime of the room, one eye missing and a pair of brilliant wings spread out against the dark obsidian of the cell. The Butcher stared down at the prisoner, watching as it cowered away from his blade. His axe glinted in the firelight, bringing the cold metal to life as he approached the animal. 

Butcher: “Hello Dream,” Prisoner: “Quackity.” Butcher: “You know what I want Dream, just give me the book and we don’t have to do this again.”

The prisoner shook its head, eyes going wide as the Butcher approached, his axe swinging down into its shoulder. The prisoner cried out in agony as it crumbled to the floor, black blood coating the axe. The Butcher laughed as his prey struggled to pull itself from the floor. He wrenched the axe from its back and pushed a heeled boot into its spine, effectively pinning the animal to the ground. He watched as it struggled for a few moments before submitting. He slammed the axe down into the ground, expertly trapping his prey between the two blades. He removed his foot from the animal’s back, kneeling on the ground next to it, he pulled shears from his inventory, watching patiently as it breathed. 

He began to drag the shears through the fabric, deftly cutting away at the cloth. Once it was removed properly from the animal's back he began his cuts.

HOW TO PROPERLY BUTCHER A GOAT:

Step One: Skin the goat

He began to carefully make a long thin cut up the animal’s side, from its hip to the base of its through just along its spine, Then he deftly snipped away at the skin, peeling back the animal’s hide carefully and ignoring the thin skin that formed even as he pulled it up from the muscle. He piled the neatly cut hide into a pile next to his prize. 

Step Two: Cut the carcass

Subsection A. Loin

The Butcher set down the shears and pulled a knife from his inventory. With the knife he carefully began to make a linear cut down the side of the beast, this time cutting vertically on top of the hip to make sure he gathered as much of the meat as possible, once again his prey re-grew the muscle that was stripped from the bones, this portion of it being carefully piled on the cloth that had once guarded the animal. The second cut was made just below the ribs, very carefully he worked through this meat, knowing it would be best if he didn’t tear it apart whilst harvesting. 

Subsection B. Rib

The next vertical cut was made into the meat’s shoulder, carefully severing the tendons that moved the muscle as he went. He knew those bits were chewy when cooked and thus he carefully carved them away from the ribs, though the Butcher was merciful, being careful to take only the three smallest, breaking them from the spine and then pulling them out as the blood-coated his hands and the nice white of his sleeves. The animal moaned and kicked on the ground though it knew better than to pull away from the hands, from the blade. 

Subsection C. Leg

The Butcher turned away from the decimated bloody body of the animal, looking down to it’s leg. Carefully it severed the upper tendons and cut scooping chunks out down to the bone. He knew this would make for a good stew meat. Perhaps he would make some once he was finished. 

The Butcher piled all of the meat onto the cloth before pouring a potion of endurance onto the slowly healing wounds, watching as his prey gasped below him. 

Butcher: “Now, what do we say?” Prisoner: “Thank you, sir.”

The Butcher removed the axe from the ground and set it up against the wall, putting the blood covered shears into his inventory for safekeeping. There was no pause as he pulled out a second knife. 

Butcher: “Sit up. Make yourself useful.”

The Prisoner obeys and sits up, gratefully taking the knife from the man, he picks up a piece of flesh and carefully cuts away the stringy skin that had grown there, his hands missing every so often as his brain reels with the pain. The Butcher sits next to it and mimics its movements. Silently they work together to clean the meat for the feast.

Once the meat is clean, at 30 minutes and 46 seconds into the recording, the Butcher stands, his movements are careful as he stabs his dagger into a chunk of what appears to be a rib, he approaches the lava wall and holds the meat in it for a few moments before pulling it out. Then the rib is tossed to the Prisoner.

Butcher: “Eat.”

The Prisoner bites into the flesh and tears the soft juicy meat from the bone, blood there is little blood as it rips away the sticky muscle and swallows it down like a hungry wolf. 

The Butcher wraps the remainder of the meat and skin into a makeshift bag created from the Prisoner’s jumpsuit.  

The Butcher leaves to the sound of the Prisoner biting down on the bone. 

— END TRANSCRIPTION

@1duckling

[lasnevadaslaborunion]

Thoughts on the bet

I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS.

So first of all, this casts everything about c!Quackity during Las Nevadas into a whole new light (that it was already teetering on the edge of). He finally got a win. The very first gamble in his new nation was a victory for the house, as it was designed to be. For just a moment, the system worked as intended and he bested somebody who once made his life hell.

(And then, c!Schlatt didn't show up to work - at least, not for a very long time.)

But that's fine, right, he's still riding that high. He won. He can win again. It's only uphill from here. Why not keep risking it?

What this changes most is that it makes c!Quackity's real goals a lot clearer. Him winning the bet hammers home harder that the revival book - at least, using the revival book himself - was never the primary motivation for torturing c!Dream. Which, let's be real, anybody paying attention probably would have picked up already. His first words on the subject were about what c!Dream did to Tommy; he takes it as a given throughout the arc that his own death is iminent, never even considers using the book to gain immortality or whatever else; hell, he flat-out screams that he doesn't give a crap about the book and that he's only torturing c!Dream to pay him back for the harm he's caused. If the book factored in at all, then his desire was more to make sure that c!Dream didn't have it than that c!Quackity himself did.

But that right there is the aspect of this reveal that gives me full-body chills: c!Quackity had full autonomy. There was nothing compelling him to walk into that prison cell and beat someone bloody for two months straight. He did that of his own free will - for reasons that are sympathetic on paper, sure, but he still chose that.

It's a fucking brilliant twist. Set up a situation where we're led to believe that this abuse survivor is going down a dark path at the direct coercion of their abuser. Give them a very clear excuse - one with plenty of holes (how exactly would c!Schlatt have ensured that he kept his word?), but which makes sense intuitively, cudgels you with sympathy. Then, strip that explanation away, and force people to think about the realistic chain of events that led to this horror show. He didn't have to do that. But he did. And as much as I loved the angsty portrayals of c!Q on a time crunch, c!Q humiliated and terrified, c!Q haunted by c!Schlatt's ghost until he fulfills his debt... I think the hidden, metaphorical demon, not being dragged screaming and crying into corruption, but stepping into it willingly, with a gritted-teeth grin and rolled eyes, believing that this time, you really do have all the power... is so much more fascinating and disturbing.

He was a free man. He wasn't under anyone's thumb anymore. He could have been living the dream.

He almost was. Almost.

Shit, man. He really just... did that, didn't he?

[dreamsclock]

Hear me out! Vegas Team 2.0, but with an added EW!Ranboo who hates almost everyone there except C!Dream.

HELL YEAH !!!! god poor c!ranboo - he deserves so much better than this HELPPP,,,, then again all of them do :’) i had to write a little thing about this, i hope you don’t mind !!

warnings: blackmail, manipulation, violence, fighting, trauma, toxic relationships, dissociation, death mention, torture mention, dark themes

Ranboo couldn’t look more uncomfortable if he’d tried.

Wilbur loves it.

“Aw, chin up, Ranbo!” He says cheerily, clapping Ranboo on the back and ignoring Sam’s half hearted protest that his name is Ranboo. “You look like you don’t want to be here!”

Ranboo squirms. “I don’t,” he mutters, eyes downcast, slouching down further in his seat, “that’s the problem. I don’t want to be here.”

“You know you have to,” Quackity says, a tight-lipped smile on his face that’s a little too sharp to be friendly, “we don’t wanna have to leak your secret.”

And that’s the problem with sleepwalking and acting different from how people expect, isn’t it? Wilbur muses, watching discomfort and defeat trickle over Ranboo’s face like a downpour. None of them (minus Wilbur) had expected Ranboo to appear, purple eyes glinting, and try to rescue Dream. None of them (minus Wilbur) had expected Dream to refuse. And none of them (minus Wilbur) had expected Ranboo to wake up into his normal state and instantly end up backed into a corner via blackmail and a lot of persuasion, least of all Ranboo himself.

And now he’s stuck here. The same way Sam is, the same way Quackity is, the same way Dream is, the same way even Wilbur is, who, really, is the one who wants to be here the most. He does enjoy little group business meetings like these, where Sam is tense and curt and Quackity is only a shade left of cruel and Ranboo is uncomfortable and miserable and Dream is...

Wilbur lets his eyes trail to his hero, lighting up when they land on him.

“Dream!” He calls easily. Dream leans towards him, tilting his face in his direction, and even behind the mask Wilbur can tell that his friend isn’t all there: he’s somewhere else, so he digs his nails into Dream’s wrist to pull him back and Dream jumps, startled. “Knock knock, anyone home? I was just saying to Ranbo,” he continues, without waiting for a response and without listening to Sam’s wearily interjected Ranboo, “how miserable he looks. Don’t you think he looks sad?”

Ooh, and there’s a problem, a juicy one, because Dream’s head turns towards Ranboo and Ranboo pulls back and Dream’s shoulders tense in hurt and frustration, because this side of Ranboo doesn’t trust Dream as far as he can throw him and because Dream doesn’t appreciate how scared and unfriendly Ranboo is like this. Wilbur loves it, he really does: it’s like watching his own personal soap opera, one he produces and directs and acts in, and it’s bloody brilliant, even if nobody else seems to appreciate just how amusing all this suffering and hatred is. 

“Yeah,” Dream replies obediently, voice clipped, “but he doesn’t want to be here, to be fair.”

“...So you want to let him go?” Wilbur posits for him, eyebrows raising in dramatic surprise. “That’s what you’re saying?”

Dream stiffens. He knows he’s walked into a trap, and Wilbur grins as he tries to make his clumsy escape. “No, no, that’s not what I said, no-”

“We can’t just let him go!” Quackity snaps at Dream. “Don’t be so fucking stupid, either of you, holy shit. He knows too much about this organization we have going on, and we know too much about him. He stays.”

Sam pinches the bridge of his nose, looking exhausted. Wilbur wonders idly if Sam sleeps anymore, or if he’s succumbed to the same white noise they all hear in their heads when it gets too quiet. “Big Q, we can’t keep him here against his will,” he says, “look, Ranboo, if you want to go, and you promise not to talk about this to anyone-”

“Did you know, Ranboo,” Wilbur interrupts brightly, watching the kid squirm in absolute horror and misery, “that Quackity and Sam tortured Dream almost to death in prison?”

And then he’s dodging an sword being swung his way with a laugh, and Dream is between him and Sam with a snarl, pushing Sam out of the way while Quackity shouts at Wilbur, axe in hand. He looks murderous.

“Why the fuck would you tell him that? Why the fuck would you- Wilbur, you’re an idiot! You’re a fucking idiot! He’s going to tell everyone now!”

Wilbur wipes his eyes, tries to regain his breath enough to answer. Ranboo does it for him, voice quiet, horrified, sharp. “No,” he says, softly, “no, I won’t. Because then you’ll hunt me down and kill me, and you’ll tell everyone about my secret.”

He meets Wilbur’s eyes, and Prime, he’s almost impressed: there’s fire in Ranboo’s eyes, almost but not quite completely drenched in fear.

“Right, Wilbur?”

“Well said, Ranboo,” Wilbur says breezily, “sit back down, Sam, Quackity, please. We’re only ten minutes into the meeting. Dream-”

Dream comes to his side obediently, and Wilbur can see he’s twitchy, can tell it won’t take long before he manages to push him and the others and himself to breaking point. 

So he smiles.

Sam stiffens in suspicion.

“I think it’s time,” Wilbur continues, “for another group therapy session.”

Silence: thick, heavy, if-anyone-speaks-they’re-in-trouble kind of silence, where all four wait with baited breath for the statement to sink in and the gravity of their situation to become apparent.

Wilbur pulls a self-help book out of his pocket, opens it to where he’d last left off. “Chapter eight,” he says serenely, “finding inner peace.”

Pandemonium erupts.

[teddy06writes]

A Day In The Life

requesred by this genius anon: “Aight imma hit you with a good one: Literally everything as platonic, but a day in the life of reader in high school with the minor gang (too my, tubbo, ranboo) and all the faculty at the school are dreamsmp members”

Platonic! Minors gang (tommy, tubbo, ranboo and purpled) x reader

trigger warnings: none

premise: a day in the life of a student at the DSMP public high school 

{with all the shit that goes on the smp there's no way it could be anything but a public school}

{also if I do things slightly off or something its cause my high school is weird, we only have four blocks a day, but I think most have seven, so we’re going with that}

{also the dream/george thing, is based on two of the sciences teachers at my school being suspected of having an affiar}

{Full teacher list:

English: Mr. NotFound

Drama: Mr. Soot

Spanish: Mr. Dream (its mexican dream lol)

Gym: Coach Sapnap and Coach Punz

Home ec: Miss Nihachu

Music: Mr. Quackity

Chemistry: Mr. Halo}

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Home room: Mr. Callahan

You sighed, trudging toward the school entrance, god it was way to early for this. 

The halls were already crowded with people heading to there home rooms, and Mr. Minecraft, the principal, was standing outside the admin offices, greeting everyone with a smile. 

��Good morning, (y/n).” 

“Good morning Mr. Minecraft.” You grumbled as you passed. 

You hurried through the foyer and up the stairs, toward Mr. Callahan’s room. 

“Hey!” Tubbo called, hurrying down the hallway, “(y/n)!”

“Hey Tubbo.” you yawned.

He fell into step with you, “You think Callahan will actually show today?” 

The one good thing about your home room teacher is that none of the kids ever seemed to have seen him. It meant that some days, while other home rooms had lectures of bullying or something, your class got to hang out for 30 minutes. 

“I don’t think he even exists.” Purpled said, falling in on your other side. 

“He definitely doesn’t.” You agreed. 

~~

History: Mr. Blade

“Hey (y/n)!” Ranboo called from his seat at the front of the room as you came in. 

He was lucky enough to have moved homerooms and ended up getting the same room as his first block. 

“Hello Ranboo.” you sighed, sitting down in your seat next to him. 

Tommy came in and plopped down behind you, “Well you sound like shit.”

“No swearing in my classroom, Tommy.” Mr. Blade chided, hardly looking up from the book on his desk. 

You turned to look at Tommy, “It’s too early for this.” 

“You say that everyday!” He laughed. 

“Yeah! Cause this class starts at 7:45 in the god damn morning!” You half exclaimed. 

“Bloody hell you’d think you’d get used to it-” 

“Tommy, what did I say about swearing?” Mr. Blade cut Tommy off. 

“But you didn’t yell at (y/n)!” Tommy yelled, “That’s not fair Tech!” 

Me. Blade glared at his brother, “Do you want me to send you down to Phil’s office Tommy?” 

“I didn’t even do anything!”

After a moment under Mr. Blades glare, Tommy sighed, “Please don’t send me down to Phil.” 

The teacher didn’t respond, instead standing up and moving to stand in front of the board, queuing up the intro slides for the day, “All right everyone, settle down. Today in our ‘tour of the ancient world’ or whatever, we’re going to start our mini unit on Greece.”

~~

Statistics/Math: Mr. Was Taken

After a class that ended mostly in a rant about the myth of Heracles, you said goodbye to Ranboo and Tommy and met up with Purpled to head to math. 

Mr. Wastaken was already passing out the notes when you two got there, sliding into your seats at the back of the classroom just as the bell rang. 

“You’re late.” He chided, dropping the papers onto your desk, then Purpleds. 

“Purp needed to refill his water bottle.” You explained. 

“Seriously?” Mr. Wastaken questioned, “Dude, it’s second block, why the hell was your water already empty?” 

Purpled shrugged, “P.E?” 

“Ehh, wrong, Sapnap doesn’t have you till sixth period.” 

“Stairs... are murder man.” He fumbled. 

You nodded, “First floor to the fourth floor is tough Mr. Wastaken.” 

Rolling his eyes, the teacher moved back to the front of the room, “Alright, last nights homework was a bit of a flop so we’ll be more review for the quiz tomorrow.” 

You groaned internally, pulling out your pencil. 

Purpled nodded, “I fuckin hate review days.” 

“I can hear you, you know!” Mr. WasTaken half yelled. 

~~

Chemistry: Mr. Halo

After Math you and Purpled headed down to the science hall to meet back up with Tubbo to head to Chem. 

“Welcome back everybody!” Mr. Halo greeted cheerily, “Good to see smiling faces for chemistry!” 

How he managed to stay so upbeat, no one would ever know.

You sat down at your lab table with Tubbo, “You think we actually make it to doing the lab today before he starts talking about Mr. Skeppy again?” 

“Oh no chance.” 

You chuckled, pulling out your notebook as Mr. Halo pulled up the opening review before the lab. 

Twenty minutes later found you elbow deep in the lab, quite literally. 

“It was supposed to just be a small scale elephants toothpaste!” Mr. Halo cried. 

Purpled grinned, “You should’ve taken my wildcard factor into account sir.” 

You laughed, wiping the foam off your apron (thank god for lab aprons), “That was brilliant!” 

A few minutes earlier, Tubbo had helped him do out the math to scale up the experiment by 20%, and you had willingly given up your own materials to help.

Now most of the classroom was covered in the foam, and Purpled and the girl who had been unfortunate enough to be partnered with him were knee deep in it. 

“I sent the video to the groupchat.” Tubbo whispered.

“Good.” You chuckled again. 

Mr. Halo groaned, “You three start cleaning this up, Elizabeth, dear, why don’t you join a different group.”

“I volunteer to switch with her!” Drista yelled, “they look like fun!” 

Mr. Halo sighed, “No- no absolutely not- I can’t deal with you added to the mix.” 

Drista pouted, the rest of the class went back to there work, and you, Tubbo and Purpled began to clean up the foam. 

~~

Drama: Mr. Soot

As Purpled left for his history class, you and tubbo headed twoard the music/performing arts suit, where you met up with Ranboo. 

“Tommy said he wished he could’ve been there to see the foam.” Ranboo reported as Tubbo peeled off into the band room, and you both continued on to the green room. 

“Hello, Hello, Hello!” Mr. Soot greeted in an aussie accent (you know the one). 

“Oh god please say were not doing accents today.” Ranboo muttered. 

Mr. Soot laughed, “Nah, we’re going to do some more rounds of improv.” 

“Oh thank god.” You said as you moved to take a seat at one of the side tables. 

“That would have been hell.” Ranboo agreed. 

More people poured into the room, take seats all around as Mr. Soot began to dig through on of the closets. 

As the bell rang he let out a triumphant cheer, turning around and brandishing a very large bowl of paper slips, “I found the prompts!” 

“Oh dear lord.” Ranboo muttered.

“Mr. Soot can we please do like, anything else?” You asked, “Like scenes, or hell I’d even take monologues, you know we’re all shit at improv!” 

The teacher sighed, “I suppose we could do something else. I guess we can begin our next topic, you’re all going to be assigned scenes and given time to practice them, we’ll present on Friday!” 

The entire class breathed a sigh of relief that you had managed to change his mind. 

~~ English: Mr. NotFound 

After a very chaotic lunch full of Tubbo retelling a bunch of jokes Mr. Quackity had told during music,  you trudged off to the one class that didn’t have any of your main group of friends in. 

The one good thing about having Mr. NotFound as a teacher was that he had no clue what he was doing. 

More often then not you would be left to do essays or read the required books, and then watch the movies that went along with them.

And, just your luck, your English block happened to take place during Mr. Wastaken’s prep period. 

“Right, everyone, today’s a work day, finish up anything you need to for this class, or another, and I’ll put on a movie.” Mr. NotFound said as soon as everyone was seated. 

Ten minutes into the movie the teacher had left, and you pulled up the group chat.

(y/n): Mr. NotFound has yet again suspiciously left during class. 

Purp: sus

Purp: just went by WasTaken’s room

Purp: he’s not there

BooBoy: I saw him down in the science hall ten minutes ago

BeEs: Science hall is oposite to English isn’t it

(y/n): yeah it is

BooBoy: very sus

Purp: I swear their having an affair

BeEs: defintly a lesbian

BeEs: *leassion

BeEs: lesion

BeEs: le-a-zon

BeEs: you know what I mean!

BooBoy: take your time Tubbo

You chuckled quietly, putting your phone down to look back up at the movie on the screen. 

~~

Spanish: Mr. Dream (its mexican dream lol)

“AYYYY kids!”

You groaned as your Spanish teacher burst into the room.

“What is with this guy?” Tommy muttered. 

“ayy man not cool.” Mr. Dream said. 

“Mr. Dream your ten minutes late!” Someone pointed out. 

“SHut up man. And I told you just call me Mexican Dream!” The teacher said. 

You frowned, “That doesn’t make sense, theres no way your first name is ‘mexican’.” 

“Well its not,” He explained, “But its cause I’m the Mexican version of that math teacher!” 

“Why couldn’t I have taken French like Boo and Purp?” Tommy asked the ceiling quietly.

~~ Home ec: Miss Nihachu

The last block of the day was always the best, but not just because school would be over soon. 

There were three main reasons why everyone agreed it was the best. 

1. Miss Nihachu was the nicest teacher in school

2. baking was done often, and everyone always got to take some home

3. it was the one class you, Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo and Purpled all had together. 

Soon your found yourself crowded into one of the tiny kitchen areas with all your friends, as Miss Nihachu gave instructions. 

“Now, if you make a mess you will be cleaning it up! I’m looking at your kitchen a!” She said, half threateningly.

Ranboo pushed away from the group, “I’m not with them I swear!” 

Miss Nihachu rolled her eyes playfully, “Sure your not.” 

Surprisingly, a mess was not fully made. 

Somehow between Tommy wanting to taste the cookie dough at every step from butter to flour, Tubbo trying to add as many chocolate chips as he could, and Purpled all but refusing to move from where he was sitting on the counter, you and Ranboo managed to get the cookies into the oven with no real disasters. 

As you wiped down the empty counter space you sighed, “That wasn’t too bad.” 

“Yeah.” Tubbo agreed. 

Tommy only nodded, still eating the large glob of cookie dough he’d stolen. 

Ten minutes before the bell rang and when everyone was supposed to be finishing cleaning up you sniffed the air suspiciously, “Why do I smell burning?” 

Tubbo took a deep breath, “I smell it too.”

“Oh yeah, something is definitly burning.” Ranboo agreed. 

You whirled to face Purpled, who was absently scrolling through his phone, “Purp you did set a timer right?” 

[resonating-kitty]

Tomburgers - The New Favorite Place

A short, cute little fic of @warped-m0ss 's AU where Dream and Tommy create their own restaurant to cause problems for Wilbur and Quackity.

-

It was a plan to cause problems on purpose but neither Dream nor Tommy could cook. Luckily Dream has just the plan and it turns out to be the best one yet.

-

Their partnership has been a shock to the whole server and their announcement of their new business was even more so. Dream and Tommy, sick and tired of having to deal with whatever was going on between Las Nevadas and the newly established Paradise, put aside their differences and decided to team up - temporarily! Only temporarily - in order to cause as much grief for both places as possible. You know, causing problems on purpose.

They’d built their shop, a little hut on the back side of spawn. Tommy built the building while Dream did a bit of terraforming, even building up a small little water fountain as well as establishing outside seating. Once that was complete both went out to gather all the food they could, Dream brought back mutton, beef, pork, and a variety of fish. Tommy brought the vegetables, bread and sweets. It was when they got it all together and was almost ready to have their grand opening did the thought occur.

“Say Dream,” Tommy began with a pensive look on his face, immediately drawing the masked man’s attention, “We went and did all this but do either of us actually know how to cook?”

Dream paused, his mask actually obscuring his facial expression but Tommy knew Dream well enough to see the jolt that went through him, saw the way his shoulders dropped just slightly.

“We don’t.” Tommy confirmed and Dream nodded, once and hesitant. Tommy cursed. They had all the raw ingredients they could ever need, certainly much more than either of their opponents, and Tommy had been almost done writing up their menu as well, but if they couldn’t cook it then they couldn’t serve it. It was the rule and Eret held the right as the only licensed food connoisseur to shut any restaurant down if they didn’t meet their regulations for food prep that they had laid down.

“Maaaan” Tommy whined, sliding down to sit on the polished oak floor. Dream remained silent, head tilted slightly. He was thinking, Tommy realized but he didn’t know what they could do. They couldn’t trick Eret. The other had an uncanny ability to see through bullshit.

“How finished is your menu?” Dream asked eventually, slowly like the puzzles in his head were starting to come together.

Tommy sighed, “It’s nearly done but I don’t see the point in finishing it if everything we can serve is raw.” He fought the urge to roll his eyes but he did jump when Dream suddenly spun on his heels and hastily headed for the door. “Oi! Where are you going?” He called after, making Dream pause briefly in the doorway.

“Finish the menu Tommy. Leave everything raw.” Dream ordered.

“What?!” Tommy exclaimed, jumping to his feet. He huffed and glared, throwing his hand out, “We can’t serve raw food to people Dream! Eret won’t bloody allow it or did you forget?”

“Trust me Tommy,” Dream said only to have Tommy snort.

“You took my discs, exiled me, and blew up a country and now you’re asking me to trust you?” Tommy asked, disbelieving.

“I did all that, you’re right. You tried to blackmail me with my dead horse, you killed the only peace I had in Pandora, and you also tried to kill me while I was defenseless and half starved and tortured,” Dream shot back, his voice calm. Tommy flinched slightly but Dream continued, “I’m not asking you to trust me fully but trust me when it comes to our business. We’re on the same page here with this.”

Tommy thought about it before he nodded, “Yeah alright. I’ll finish the menu but where are you going?”

“I see a friend.” Was all Dream offered before he was gone and left a grumbling Tommy picking up a pen to work on the menu.

-

A day later Tomburger opened officially.

Tommy was nervous and he kept glancing at Dream as he stood in an apron with his arms folded across his chest. He appeared to be waiting on someone - had been for the last thirty minutes of them announcing to the whole of the server that they were open. Tommy had resorted to pacing, a nervous boulder lodging itself firmly in his belly. He was just waiting for Eret to show up and take one look at their menu and shut them down, ending their attempts before it could even begin.

“Calm down,” Dream’s voice was firm but gentle, making Tommy pause long enough to glare.

“Calm down he says,” Tommy mocked, “Why aren’t you as nervous as I am? Eret’s going to shut us down man. There’s no way we’ll be able to-” Tommy’s voice trailed off as a low grumbling just outside their hut sounds.

“I don’t know what to tell you Steve,” Techno’s voice rose up in response, “This is where Dream said to meet him.”

A cackling whine rose up as well along with whinney of a horse. “Look I don’t know why Dream told us to come here either but I trust the guy,” Techno responds seconds before he appears at the small window they’d built.

Dream laughs as he let’s up the window. “Techno! Good to see you, ah I see you brought the animals. Good good.” Tommy remains silent, not sure where Dream was going with this, but he steps forward to peek outside, noting Steve the polar bear, Carl the stallion, and Blitz the fox all accompanying the Piglin.

“Yeah you asked me to bring them here but uh I’m not exactly sure what here is.” Techno replied, gazing at the building with a raised brow.

“Welcome to Tomburger!” Dream announced, spreading his arms wide. The grin could be heard in his voice, “We serve all the pets of the server the finest food. We have a little bit of everything, look!” A menu is handed out the window for Techno to take and he does so. Tommy watched as Techno took a step back as his three pets gathered around. Blitz peeked down from his spot curled around the Piglin’s neck while Carl looked over one shoulder and Steve the other.

The pets looked down the menu before Blitz started wagging his fluffy tail and chattering eagerly. Steven huffed and grunted, licking his lips. Carl bobbed his head and nudged the side of Techno’s head.

“Blitz wants the rabbit dish here, the uh Lucky Rabbit Hindquarters with a side of red mushrooms. Steve wanted the Salmon Grande but hold the kelp, he doesn’t like kelp. Carl wants a dozen freshly cut carrots.” Techno ordered as his three pets made excited noises. He fished out a handful of golden nuggets and handed them over.

“Thank you,” Dream smiled, taking payment. “We’ll have it out for you in just a moment. Please have a seat and relax.” He said before sliding the window shut and turning around to where Tommy was gaping at him.

“You’re bloody brilliant, you know that?” Tommy asked before he registered what he said. He blinked in surprise as Dream merely chuckled. “For a bitch.” He tried to recover with the insult, ears reddening in embarrassment.

Luckily Dream let him have it by merely laughing and nodding, “Yes I know.”

They got to work, preparing the dishes and serving them to their waiting customers. It was a hit. Techno’s pets loved their dishes and Techno himself was impressed with the restaurant.

By the end of the week Techno has brought his whole wolf army to be served. Sam had heard through the grapevine and brought Fran to try out the food. Other members of the server started bringing their own pets as well.

Dream had to break the news to Sapnap that he would be banned from entering the premises due to his history as a serial pet killer. Sapnap had whined but relented when Dream promised to make some extra special fish food for Mars and Beckerson.

It was months before Drista made her appearance, along with the new puppy Tommy had gotten to replace the dog that he’d accidentally killed. The puppy took to the place instantly and a happy puppy meant a less chaotic Goddess of Mischief. Drista vowed the lands of the Tomburger restaurant to be under her protection and promised pain to any and all who would dare to harm the place.

Quackity and Wilbur could do nothing but simmer in their anger, as neither were prepared to face the wrath of the Goddess.

Tomburger turned into quite the social hang out among the server inhabitants and Dream and Tommy were soon swimming in gold. Tommy was happy and Dream was as well.

[lazyliars]

“This is how we earn a seat at the big lads table.”

That high pitched sound that could be heard in the background of this scene? Yeah, that was me, screeching bloody vindication for all the c!Tubbo analysis I’ve written, especially this line from the Quackity meta--

...Which makes sense, considering it’s [Snowchester’s] founder, Tubbo, holds no earthly belongings, and Jack, another prominent member, has made a character trait out of losing his things every other day. The two of them have no conceivable way to defend themselves against people who are stronger than they are. But together, holding the keys to nuclear armaments, they can suddenly play on the field of gods.

And what a situation Tubbo and Jack have found themselves in. With a stolen nuke and the only leads pointing to Tubbo’s husband? Damn brilliant.

I also wanna point out just how much of the subtext in the stream today validated the heavily self-sacrificing character readings that have been made about c!Tubbo.

There’s the part where he earnestly considers that being locked away might be worth it to free the server from Dream.

Like, that’s huge. We generally consider Tommy when we think about the people who Dream has victimized most, but Tubbo... Remembering that Dream manipulated Tubbo during the exile, destroyed his home, and was going to kill him in front of his best-friend, and then beat said best-friend to death?

Tubbo has just as much reason to want Dream dead as Tommy does - and he was willing to accept death in order to save Tommy a bit of pain, it makes a tragic kind of sense that he’d destroy his own future to prevent Dream from hurting what he loves.

And even more then that, The Self Destruct Button. Oh my god, The Self Destruct Button.

I think this almost goes without saying. He didn’t tell Jack, the only other person he ever fully let in on the nukes. He doesn’t even consider the possibility that anyone would have canon lives to spare once they use it, because he only ever intended for a single person to use it.

And imagining a world where Dream had broken out earlier - and came to Snowchester to collect his things and fulfill the threat he failed to make good on the first time... OF course Tubbo would have a contingency plan.

And the fucking implications. Tubbo, refusing to let Dream take his last life. Tubbo, refusing to let his home be used against him again.

...So he kills two birds and a Dream with one stone.