76. (credit to RedWing336)

"Uh, Eret. I don't think I'm gonna fit in there."

Eret looked at Tommy, looked at the narrow corridor leading to the final control room, then looked back at Tommy. "Ah. Couldn't you. . . get out?"

Tommy crossed his arms. "Couldn't you bring the weapons to me?" he countered.

Eret smiled nervously. "We might not be able to get them all in one go--"

"For fuck's sake," Wilbur interrupted. "Just get out of the stupid hamster ball."

Tommy adopted a mutinous expression and took a step back. The giant plastic ball he was standing in rolled with the movement. "Can't make me, bitch."

"I think I can," Wilbur returned, drawing his iron sword. "Shall we test that?"

Tommy bared his teeth. "Bring it."

~~~

"I don't think I'm going to fit in there."

"Can't you just. . . get out of the hamster ball?" George asked, eyes darting between Dream and the tiny space they were supposed to be hiding in. Dream shook his head.

"I told you, getting out isn't an option." He glanced around the final control room. "If I just. . . stood in the corner, do you think they would notice me?"

"Pretty sure they would, yes," Punz deadpanned.

Dream frowned. "But are you really sure?"

Sapnap shuffled over to a wall and calmly began banging his head on it.

77. remix, pt. 3 

Fundy grimaced, glancing over his shoulder. If Tubbo caught him in here, there would be questions, and Fundy wasn't sure if he could come up with a convincing lie. He had to do this quickly.

Pulling open another cabinet, his eyes fell on Court Documents. Convenient. He snatched the folder up and rifled through it, pulling out the 'evidence' Tommy had used to pin the burning of George's house on Dream. A glance-over proved that it was the real deal, and he quickly shoved it into his inventory before covering up all traces of his presence in the office. He had just shut the cabinet when the office door opened behind him, and he whipped around, forcing his bristling tail to relax.

"Fundy?" Tubbo blinked at him. "What are you doing in my office?"

"I was looking for you," Fundy lied.

Tubbo waited, obviously expecting Fundy to explain. When the fox hybrid failed to do so, he raised an eyebrow. ". . . and why were you looking for me?"

"To talk about something."

The second eyebrow rose to join the first. "And that would be. . .?"

"I forgot." Fundy met Tubbo's skeptical gaze head-on, praying to all heavens that Tubbo wouldn't notice his shaking hands.

"You forgot," Tubbo repeated.

Fundy bobbed his head. "Uh-huh. Yep. You know me. Always forgetting things."

Tubbo held his gaze for a moment longer, then snorted and rolled his eyes. "I think that's Ranboo."

"Never know, his memory problems might be contagious." Fundy smiled sheepishly. "I think I'm gonna go home. Some sleep might help."

"You do that," Tubbo muttered, crossing the room and falling into his office chair with a huff. "I'll be in here doing taxes."

Fundy winced sympathetically. "Good luck."

"Thanks." Tubbo began sorting through his papers, a clear act of dismissal. Fundy fled the room as quickly as he could.

~~~

Fundy never thought that he'd one day be stealing a confidential court document, but it was necessary. Tubbo hadn't said much about what occurred during his talk with Tommy a week ago, but the first thing he'd done at the next meeting was to instate Quackity as interim vice-president, which basically meant that he'd be the vice until Tommy finished. . . whatever he needed to do.

Which added onto the list of Very Suspicious Things pertaining to Tommy. Following the court case, the L'Manberg Cabinet (minus Tommy) had gathered to discuss the proceedings. Quackity had made an offhanded joke about the possibility of Tommy blackmailing Dream, which was quickly brushed off. After all, what could Tommy possibly threaten Dream with?

Thing was, when Fundy had actually taken time to sit back and review the court case, he'd realized that the joke had more merit than expected. It would explain Dream's sudden change in behavior and his subdued temperament for the remainder of the trial. Fundy was still blanking on what Tommy could have blackmailed Dream with, but everything else lined up. Which was why he'd snuck into Tubbo's office to take a peek at the court documents.

Safe in the confines of his home, Fundy squinted at the paper he'd stolen. Dream had only changed his story after he'd stared at the picture for a good ten seconds, and though that could have been chalked up to him being dumbfounded by the sheer ridiculousness of it all, Fundy suspected that there was more to it.

Yup, just as he thought. Right at the edge of the picture, inscribed in ink--

∷ᒷᒲᒷᒲʖᒷ∷ ∴⍑ᔑℸ ̣ ╎ ᓭᔑ╎↸. !¡ꖎᔑ|| ᔑꖎ𝙹リ⊣. 𝙹∷ ᒷꖎᓭᒷ.

Gah. His Enchantment was pretty rusty. Rme-- was that a m? No, it was a e. Right, the next letter was m. He'd gotten them mixed up. And that was a t, not a s. . . so the entire thing said. . .

Remember what I said. Play along. Or else.

Fundy's elation at his successful translation disappeared in a flash. His ears pressed flat against his skull. Because no matter how he looked at it, that phrasing seemed pretty threatening.

What the hell was Tommy doing?

78. adoption arc, pt. 6 

"No."

"Yes," Tubbo countered. "Join us."

"No," Tommy snapped. He turned, only to stop dead in his tracks when Purpled appeared, blocking his path. "Oh fuck, you're in on this too?"

"Join us," Purpled deadpanned. His face was perfectly blank, but Tommy could see the amusement shining in his eyes. "We have cookies."

"I don't care about your shitty cookies," Tommy grumbled. He pushed past Purpled and strode deeper into the forest.

"You might wanna stop, Tommy," Tubbo called. Tommy rolled his eyes and sped up--

--and promptly tripped over a wire. The trap went off and a net snapped up around Tommy, yanking him kicking and cursing into the branches of a tree.

"What the fuck!" he shrieked, flailing blindly. The branch the net was hanging from creaking dangerously.

"I warned you," Tubbo chirped. He skipped over to the net and looked up at Tommy, tilting his head to the side. "So. Join us?"

"Fuck no!" Tommy howled, clawing at the net with his hands. "Lemme out! Purpled! I'll give you a diamond if you get me out!"

Purpled hummed. "Nah."

"Whaddya mean 'nah'?!" Tommy spluttered. Purpled shrugged.

Ranboo burst into the clearing, eyes blown wide with alarm. "What's happening?" he called. "I heard Tommy screaming and--" he stared at the scene, then turned to Tubbo. "What are you doing? Why is Tommy in a net?"

"We're trying to get Tommy to sign his adoption papers," Tubbo answered, holding up a sheaf of papers. Ranboo squinted at them.

"Uh. Those are the adoption papers?"

"Yep."

Ranboo blinked slowly. "'I certify that Dream's my brother now lol'," he read aloud.

Tubbo's grin widened. "Yep. And the rest of the packet is just a description of the risks of adopting Tommy."

Ranboo glanced between Tubbo and Tommy, who was glaring at all of them from within the net. ". . . Why are we trying to coerce Tommy into signing adoption papers?"

"Dream's birthday is tomorrow," Purpled explained. "We thought this would be a nice present."

"Ah," Ranboo said. He turned to Tommy. "C'mon Tommy, do something nice for Dream."

"Never," Tommy hissed. "Let me out."

"Just sign it," Tubbo coaxed, holding the adoption papers up towards the net. Tommy snatched the papers from his grasp, ripped them in half, and threw it back in his face. Tubbo didn't bat an eye as he pulled out another packet of adoption papers and held them up. These, too, met an untimely demise, balled up into wads and tossed at Ranboo's head.

"Just so you know," Purpled cut in, "both Tubbo and I maxed out our inventories with copies of these. We have another twenty or so stacks hidden in strategic locations around the SMP. Just sign it, Tommy. Resistance is futile."

"You know, taken out of context, that could sound very bad."

"Shut up, Ranboo. Nobody asked for your opinion."

"Wow, okay."

Tommy huffed, his gaze calculating. ". . . If I sign the stupid papers, will you let me out?"

"Yup!" Tubbo promised. "I swear it on the bees!"

"Oh, he swore on the bees," Purpled whispered loudly. "He's serious."

Tommy rolled his eyes and snatched the papers from Tubbo. "I need a pen," he grumbled.

"Wait," Ranboo said suddenly. "Wait, is that why you told me to fill my inventory with quills?"

"Maybe," Tubbo chirped. "Give him a pen, Ranboo."

Ranboo stared at him for a long moment. "This is why I spent an entire day grinding for ink?"

"It's for Dream!" Tubbo said, like that justified everything.

"C'mon, Ranboo," Tommy mocked, parroting his words from earlier, "do something nice for Dream."

Ranboo groaned and pulled a quill from his inventory, handing it to Tommy. Tommy begrudgingly scribbled a messy signature before he threw the papers and pen at Tubbo. Tubbo caught them before they could whack him in the face, grinning widely.

"Thank you for your cooperation," he chirped. "Purpled, if you will."

Purpled winced. "Uh. I don't have any weapons on me right now." At Tubbo's judgmental stare, he threw his hands into the air. "Maxed out my inventory with adoption papers, remember?!"

Tubbo turned to Ranboo, who shook his head. "Sorry, I left all my pointy objects at home today."

"Should I be worried?"

"Dream!" Tubbo whirled around, the adoption papers disappearing into his inventory with a flash. "Hello!"

"Hi," Dream replied, looking amused. He glanced between Tommy and the three teenagers standing under him. ". . . are you trying to kill Tommy?"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"Maybe."

Ranboo turned to Tubbo and Purpled with a look. Dream suppressed a laugh and waved a hand. "Carry on, then."

"You bastard! " Tommy exploded, flailing angrily. "I am going to murder you so hard--"

"We can't," Tubbo lamented over Tommy's furious shouting. "We don't have any pointy objects. Could you give us one of yours?"

Dream eyed the children contemplatively for a moment, then shrugged and held out his sword. "Thanks!" Tubbo cheered, snatching it. He raced over to the net.

"Stay the fuck away from me!" Tommy shrieked. Tubbo ignored him, slashing the sword through the netting. Tommy fell through in a mess of tangled limbs and rope, hitting the ground with an oomph. He lay there, dazed, for all of two seconds before he scrambled to his feet and lunged at Tubbo. Tubbo danced out of the way, leaving Ranboo straight in Tommy's path. The enderman hybrid froze like a deer in headlights, tail fluffing out, just as Tommy bowled him over. The two rolled across the ground, somehow ending up with Tommy pinning Ranboo to the floor in a chokehold.

"Gimme the adoption papers, or I snap his neck," Tommy threatened.

"Go ahead," Purpled said smugly. "We already got what we needed."

"The-- betrayal," Ranboo wheezed, trying fruitlessly to push himself off the ground. Tommy pulled harder on his neck and he gave up, flopping to the ground.

". . . Adoption papers?" Dream asked.

"Adoption papers," Tubbo confirmed happily.

Tommy's eyes widened and he yanked at Ranboo, eliciting a weak choking noise. "Don't you dare, Tubbo--"

"Here!" Tubbo shoved the signed sheaf of papers in Dream's direction. "We were gonna give these to you tomorrow, but I guess now works too! Happy early birthday!"

Tommy abandoned all pretense of murdering Ranboo and lunged for the two, but Purpled was faster. He stuck his foot out and tripped Tommy, then proceeded to sit on his back while Tommy flailed and cursed at him. Dream, meanwhile, was flipping through the packet, a strange expression on his face.

"'Possible loss of hearing'?" He asked. "'Extreme exhaustion to the point of passing out'? 'A one hundred percent chance of death'?"

"All life eventually comes to an end," Tubbo said, sounding like he was trying to channel his inner Master Oogway. "Oh, and the loss of hearing thing is because of Tommy's very large lung capacity."

Both of them looked over to Tommy, who was still screaming obscenities at Purpled. "I see," Dream said dryly. He looked back down at the papers, running an eye over the messy signature, then raised his voice. "Aww, I didn't know you cared, Tommy."

Tommy paused in his tirade for a moment, head whipping around. "FUCK YOU!" he howled, doubling his efforts to wiggle free. "FUCK YOU, YOU ABSOLUTE ASSHOLE--"

"Love you too," Dream sang, waving the signed adoption paper around. Tommy spluttered, so angry that he was completely unable to form words.

"I hate you so much," he informed Dream with a sort of bewildered fury.

"I know," Dream said.

"I hope you die in a hole."

"Uh-huh."

"You are the absolute worst."

"If you say so."

Tommy groaned and let his head drop to the ground. ". . . I want an infinite supply of cookies," he grumbled at last. "If you're gonna adopt me, you're gonna hafta pay me."

Dream grinned. "That can be arranged."

79.

"Dream, I found a secret room!"

"You did?" Dream called back. He hurried over to the destroyed section of wall Tommy was standing by, peering through the gap. "Huh. An X room."

"You grab the cobblestone," Tommy ordered, brushing past him. "I'm gonna go look at the chest."

"I told you," Dream grumbled as he followed, "You can get cobblestone in other places."

"But this cobblestone is rare, Dream," Tommy insisted. "It's special. Woodland Mansion cobblestone sells for a higher price!"

"Tommy, it's just cobblestone."

"You're just too uncultured to tell the difference," Tommy sniffed. He pushed the chest open. "Now let's see what-- oh."

Dream looked up from where he was prying a block of cobblestone from the wall. "Tommy?"

"Oh, " Tommy repeated. The shock on his face slowly morphed into a wide grin. "Oh my Prime."

Slowly, reverently, he lifted a Glock G43 semiautomatic from the chest. Dream stared at it for a long moment. "What the fuck," he deadpanned.

Tommy turned to him, an unholy glint in his eye. Dream took a step back. "No," he said. "No."

Tommy cackled, flicking the safety on his new gun off. "Better start running, bitch boy."

80.

Cold obsidian against his back. Dim light warming one side of his face. The smell of damp stone.

Without opening his eyes, Tommy could already tell where he was.

No, a distant part of his mind shrieked. Prime, please, anywhere but this.

The first time he'd woken up in the past, he'd thought it was a blessing. Dream had still been in prison, and Tommy had wasted no time getting Sam to make sure he stayed there. Then he'd gone off to Snowchester and retired from, well, everything. He'd built himself a little cabin at the edge of the area. Signed up for therapy with Puffy, alongside Tubbo, Ranboo and Ghostbur. He earned the title of Michael's favorite uncle, taking care of the kid when Ranboo or Tubbo were occupied. He learned to grow and heal and move on.

And then he'd woken up in the past again, this time sitting next to Tubbo on the bench. He'd freaked Tubbo out, frantically demanding to know if Dream was in prison. His friend had been quick to assure him that Dream had just been locked in, that he wouldn't escape. Tommy had believed him and vowed to stay far away from the prison, only to receive the news two days after when he would have visited in the original timeline that Technoblade had broken Dream out. He'd run to Snowchester in a panic, finding Tubbo and Ranboo bundling Michael down into a bunker. After three sleepless nights, huddled together in that bunker, he'd finally passed out from exhaustion.

And woken up in the past for the third time. He'd marched out of his house and screamed profanities at the sky for five minutes straight. It was Ranboo who found him, sobbing on his own front lawn, Mellohi's shards lying at his feet. The rest of that loop passed in a blur, ending with a flash of pink hair and blinding, searing pain.

And now he was waking up in a prison cell with the man who beat him to death four loops ago.

"Fuck," he groaned, opening his eyes. Dream sat curled against the wall opposite him, head down. His tangled, oily hair obscured his face. Good. If Tommy ever saw the bastard's smirk again, it would be too soon.

He pushed himself to his feet and faced the lava. "SAM!" he called, already knowing it would be futile. In the original timeline he'd screamed for the warden until his voice went hoarse. The warden had never replied until after Dream beat him to death, and given the lack of blood decorating the cell, Tommy had looped in before that.

Wonderful.

"SAM!" he screamed again. No reply. In the corner of his eye, Dream shifted, one dull green eye becoming visible under the curtain of hair. The bastard remained silent, watching as Tommy shouted the warden's name over and over.

"It's useless," he said at last. Tommy jerked, spinning around to face him, his hands curled into fists.

"Shut the fuck up," he ordered. Dream let out a quiet huff.

"It's useless," he repeated. "He's not going to come."

Tommy squinted at him, half-tempted to flip him off and scream for Sam again. But there was something off about the way Dream said it. He didn't sound like he was gloating. No, he sounded. . . tired. Defeated.

"The fuck is up with you?" Tommy blurted. Dream blinked, obviously not expecting the question. "Why do you sound so tired and shit? What happened to all the 'he's not gonna save you, Tommy? You're stuck with me?'"

Dream rolled his eyes. "Maybe I got tired of gloating."

Tommy snorted. "Yeah, right."

Dream shrugged and went back to inspecting the floor. Tommy eyed him with suspicion for a moment, then stalked over to the chest in the corner and yanked it open. He grabbed a book, stomped back over to his spot opposite Dream, and plopped down. Opening it to the first page, he ripped it out and began folding.

He felt eyes on him and tensed, looking up. Dream was watching him. "What?" Tommy snapped.

"What are you doing?" Dream asked.

"None of your business."

Dream hummed but didn't look away. Tommy tried to get back into folding, but he couldn't focus with Dream staring at him. He sent the man a glare. "Do you mind?"

Dream's gaze darted to the book. "Can I have a page?"

"Get your own book," Tommy said. He went back to folding.

Dream let out a quiet sigh and slowly pushed himself to his feet. Tommy tensed, fingers freezing on the crease he was making. Shit, he shouldn't have antagonized Dream. He should've just given Dream what he wanted, damnit. But he hadn't, and now Dream was going to kill him. Again.

But Dream didn't approach Tommy or start talking to him in that sickly-sweet voice he used so often in exile. Instead he shuffled to the chest, giving Tommy a wide berth. Tommy kept his eyes fixed on his own paper, refusing to relax until Dream sat back down, book in hand. The other man ripped out a piece of paper and began folding.

Slowly, Tommy resumed his own work. For a long time, the only sounds in the cell were the crinkling of paper and the bubbling of lava. It was kinda. . . relaxing, in a way. Disgustingly so. Tommy couldn't have that.

He eyed one of the completed paper airplanes lying by his leg. Don't do it, a voice in the back of his head warned. You know what happened last time you annoyed him.

Tommy decided the voice could go fuck itself. "Hey bitch," he called. Dream looked up just in time to get a paper airplane to the face. Tommy watched in amusement as the prisoner reeled back, head whacking against the obsidian wall.

"Ow! Fuck!" Dream pitched forward, clutching his eye. "What the hell was that for?!"

"For being a bitch," Tommy quipped, ignoring the frantic HE'S ANGRY! ABORT! ABORT! going on in the back of his head. "Bitch."

Dream stared at him for a long moment, then went back to folding his own paper.

Tommy scowled and threw another paper airplane at him. It flew through the air in a graceful arc and bounced harmlessly off Dream's head. The man flinched but didn't look up, focusing on his paper. Tommy threw another paper airplane. And then another. Dream's eye twitched. Tommy grinned.

The grin slid off his face when a clunking sound echoed through the cell. Both prisoners looked up as the tiny metal door in the wall slid up, revealing several potatoes.

"Lunchtime," Dream muttered, getting to his feet. Tommy remained seated, watching as Dream collected the potatoes from the slot. The other man dropped most of the potatoes on the lectern, grabbing two. He turned to Tommy and held one out. "Here."

Tommy tried to reach out to take it, but his hands wouldn't move. He was sitting on the ground and Dream was standing over him, a potato in hand. His breathing quickened. "I--" he croaked. "I'm not taking shit from you, bitch."

Dream's gaze strayed to his shaking hands. Something like realization dawned in his eyes. "Tommy," he said slowly. "Tommy, have we done this before?"

Tommy felt the blood drain from his face. He stared up at Dream and remained silent.

"You're back too," Dream said. He took a step forward. "You came back too."

"No," Tommy whispered. The world was falling out from under him, and horrible, terrible coldness was spreading through his stomach. "No. Anyone but you."

"Are you in a loop?" Dream asked. Another step forward. "Is this your fourth time too?"

"Stay away," Tommy choked out, his voice rising. He pressed himself into the wall. "Stay the fuck away from me!"

Dream stopped in his tracks. His gaze travelled down to the potato he was still gripping in one hand. "Ah," he said. He dropped the potato and kicked it away. Tommy watched as it rolled across the cell, disappearing behind the lectern.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Dream tried.

"Shut the fuck up."

Dream didn't shut up. "Tommy, you're-- we're trapped in a time loop, right?"

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut. "Stop. Stop talking."

"That's what's happening to you, right? This is the fourth time--"

"Stop."

"We can work together, Tommy, if we work together we can break out--"

"I SAID, SHUT UP!"

Dream paused. Tommy realized distantly that he was crying, eyes staring straight through the man who had murdered him three timelines ago. He felt like he was falling, strangled with never ending panic. His hands clawed at his chest as the same, terrible fact repeated again and again in his mind.

Dream is also in a time loop.

Dream, who killed him. Who forced Tubbo to exile him. Who-- who--

"It's okay to call it abuse," Puffy had told him two timelines ago, when he'd finally opened up to her during their fifth session. "It's not a weakness to admit that you were abused, Tommy."

Who abused him.

And now Tommy was stuck in a thrice-damned timeloop with him.

His ears were ringing, the haunting sound that followed every explosion. He breathed in and tasted smoke. Every loop started at a different time. How long would it be until one started in exile?

"Put your things in the hole, Tommy."

"Please," he whispered, shakily reaching up to clutch his head in a pathetic attempt to shield himself. He didn't know who he was begging. "Please, no. Please."

There was no one around to hear him. No one except the one man he had never wanted to see again.

And now he was trapped with him. Alone. In a time loop for the rest of eternity.

Tommy dug his nails into his skin and screamed.

Loop Notes
78. And thus, the adoption arc is completed.
79. At least he's getting good practice for the next manhunt.
80. So it begins.