141. (credit to Smallest)

"Don't be suspicious, don't be suspicious," Tommy sang under his breath. He scribbled another line in his notebook. "Don't be suspicious, don't be--"

"What are you doing?"

"AGH!" Tommy tried to jump to his feet and turn around at the same time. As a result, he tripped on the bush he was hiding in and tumbled into the snow. He hastily grabbed his notebook and tried to cram it into his back pocket, ignoring the fact that a) the pocket was too small for the book to fit, and b) he had a perfectly functional inventory. "Ahaha! Technoblade! Big man! Fancy seeing you here!"

"I live here," Technoblade deadpanned.

"Uh-huh. A true coincidence. It's almost like fate wanted me to be here, eh?" Tommy finished off his word vomit with a wink. Its charisma was diminished by the snow that slipped into his eye. "Ow ow ow fuck--"

Technoblade sighed. "Why are you here, Tommy?"

"I was, uh, bird watching! Yeah! You know, lots of birds in the bushes and whatnot--"

"First of all," Technoblade raised a clawed finger, "There are almost no birds in this area. Second of all--" he pointed at the 'bush' Tommy had been hiding in. "That's not a bush."

"Yeah it is!" Tommy held up the handful of sticks and soggy green paper. "See?! It even has leaves!"

Technoblade stared at him. "Tommy, there's a whole forest over there. If you wanted to spy on me, you could have just done it there instead of-- putting a fake bush in the middle of a stretch of open ground. You're not even dressed up to camouflage with the-- with the bush!"

"So you do admit it's a bush!" Tommy crowed. "And I wasn't spying on you, I was looking for birds."

Technoblade's flat look told him exactly how much he believed that. Which was to say, not at all. "Leave," he ordered.

"Okay, okay!" Tommy gathered up the remains of his 'bush' and scrambled to his feet. He scurried into the safety of the forest. It was only when he could no longer feel Technoblade's glare burning into his back that he slowed, tossed his fake bush aside, and pulled out a communicator.

Private Messaging: Dream

<TommyInnit>: phase one complete

<TommyInnit>: operation flip the bacon is a go

~~~

Technoblade narrowed his eyes at the figure skulking outside his house. Dream was pacing back and forth, leaving a rut in the snow. He'd stop in his tracks occasionally to pivot towards Technoblade's house, where he'd stand, motionless, for exactly thirty seconds (yes, Technoblade counted) before returning to his pacing.

There was absolutely no rhyme or reason for this behavior. Either Dream had severe social anxiety and was attempting to work up the courage to come talk to Technoblade (unlikely; Dream usually just barged into things with all the delicacy of a bull in a ceramics shop), or he'd finally lost his marbles (which was. . . less unlikely, but still unlikely). Either way, his behavior wouldn't be categorized as 'normal'.

Technoblade watched for another five minutes. Just as he was debating whether or not to approach, Dream broke from his routine when, instead of standing still during one of his half-minute house-staring sessions, he began walking towards it. Technoblade felt an irrational jolt of fear when his gaze met Dream's through the windows, but he shook it off.

He watched as Dream knelt by his dog pen, pulled out a notebook (hold on, this seemed familiar) and began scribbling furiously in it. Technoblade, fully fed up with the trespasser, donned his netherite armor and stepped out of his house.

"Dream, what--" he called across the snow. Before he could even finish, Dream had shot to his feet, whipped around, and hurled an ender pearl into the distance. By the time Technoblade reacted, he was gone.

~~~

"Um, Technoblade. . ."

"What?"

Ranboo let out a nervous warble. "Are you, um, going to. . . do anything about. . . them?"

Technoblade's eye was twitching furiously. "No," he grunted.

Ranboo glanced at the two figures lurking in the trees. The moment he turned towards them, both whipped out books and pretended to read them. Well, Ranboo was pretty sure they were pretending, because Tommy was holding his upside down. Dream's wasn't even in English, from what Ranboo could see of the cover.

"They've been there," Technoblade said. "Just ignore them."

"O. . . kay?"

A leaf crunched behind them. Ranboo risked a peek to see that their two stalkers were following them down the path.

"Are you. . . sure we shouldn't do anything?"

Technoblade shook his head. "Hurry. The faster we get to the church, the faster we get rid of them."

He sped up. Ranboo sent one last glance backwards, then followed suit.

~~~

Something was wrong.

Technoblade stopped outside his door, every warning bell going off in his head. "Chat?" he hissed under his breath, prodding at the voices in the hopes that they would give him a hint about what was wrong. Nothing rose above the usual murmurs, save for a few loud giggles. Helpful as always.

Technoblade checked that his armor was in place, then drew his sword and pushed the door open. The interior of his house was dark, every window covered in a thick swathe of cloth. Unless Philza had spontaneously decided that he wanted to do some interior decorating, it was likely the work of an intruder.

Warily, Technoblade stepped into the house, the enchantments on his sword casting a violet glow through the darkness. Nothing immediately jumped out at him, so he continued further, nerves pulled taut and ready to react at a moment's notice. He made it through the living room with no incidents, so he ripped the covers off the windows and did another scan of the room.

At which point two people dropped from the ceiling with a shout of, "SURPRISE!" The only thing that saved them from severe maiming was Philza, who stepped in and parried his sword before it reached the intruders. Technoblade recoiled, blinking at him.

"Wh-- Phil?"

Phil disengaged, his sword disappearing in a flash of light. He grinned at him. "Happy birthday, mate."

Slowly, Technoblade lowered his sword, straightening as he took in the rest of his surroundings. The furniture had been draped with multicolored streamers, the walls festooned with garlands of pine needles. A pile of what appeared to be presents was piled on the table usually reserved for his brewing stands.

Dream and Tommy were standing next to it, matching grins pasted on their faces and party hats on their heads. A glance at the ceiling revealed two holes. They must have been lurking there, waiting to get the drop on him.

Technoblade leveled a flat stare at the intruders. "Is this why you've been stalkin' me?"

"Yes," Tommy admitted with no shame whatsoever.

"Happy birthday!" Dream added, punctuating his sentence by setting off a party popper. A sad shower of glittery confetti puffed into the air. Philza started cackling.

Technoblade felt his eye twitch. "Get out of my house."

"But we made you a cake! And got you presents!" Tommy flailed an arm in the general direction of a large box sitting amongst the other presents. It was 'wrapped' (Technoblade was using the term generously, because that was the poorest excuse of a wrapping job he'd ever seen) in bacon-printed paper. If the cake wasn't bacon-themed as well, Technoblade would eat his cape. Without salt.

"Get out," he repeated, raising his sword. Dream offered him a cheery salute, grabbed Tommy by the arm, and hightailed it before either of them got stabbed.

142. (credit to Smallest)

TW: Suicidal ideation

"Do it, Phil."

"Wilbur, please, I can't--"

"Kill me!"

"Wil--"

"KILL ME PHIL! KILL ME!"

With an anguished cry, Philza plunged the sword into Wilbur's heart. Wilbur's mad laughter cut off in a gurgle as blood filled his lungs. He reached out even as his eyes glazed over, hands curling in the cloth of his father's haori, and Philza choked on a sob. With his free arm, he pulled Wilbur into an embrace, cradling the back of his son's head as his blood stained his sleeves.

And then an ender pearl shattered next to Philza. A stranger appeared, dressed in a tattered green cloak stained with blood. He took in the scene with a glance, then scowled.

"Oh no you don't," he hissed. He knelt by the corpse, ignoring Philza, and began chanting-- something.

It was no language Philza had ever heard, and when one was as long-lived as he was, there were very few languages he had not heard. But even if he couldn't understand the words, the eldritch syllables that rolled off the man's tongue raised hairs along his arms. Philza tried to shy away, to protect Wilbur from whatever sorcery was surely being done, but he couldn't move.

The stranger kept chanting, voice reaching a crescendo. As the final word rang through the air, he reached out, grabbed ahold of air, and pulled.

Philza's son dissolved into smoke in his arms. For a moment he stared, disbelieving. And then comprehension dawned, soon followed by anger.

"What did you do?" he rasped, turning to the stranger. His mangled wing burned as his wings puffed up, but he barely noticed the pain. "What the fuck did you do to Wilbur?!"

The stranger raised his hands. "He's--"

"Give him back," Philza snarled. "Give him-- "

"Are you fucking serious," a voice said behind him.

Philza's head snapped around so quickly, it was a miracle that he hadn't broken his neck. "W-Wil?"

Wilbur stepped out from behind a jagged stone outcropping created by the explosion. The movement knocked over a pile of rubble, which rolled away to reveal the bed hidden behind it.

"Are you. Fucking. Kidding me." Wilbur punctuated each sentence with another step forward. Philza rose on shaking legs, but Wilbur merely brushed past him, heading straight for the stranger.

"I was dead, Dream," he seethed. "That was supposed to be my last life."

"Uh-huh," the stranger-- Dream said. "And I brought you back. You're welcome."

Wilbur spluttered. "I-- you-- this was-- I didn't want to be brought back! I wanted to fucking die and stay dead, Dream, or did you miss the part where I was yelling at Phil to kill me?!"

Dream pushed his mask aside. Based on the way Wilbur recoiled, Philza could assume that this wasn't a common occurrence. However, it did make his eye roll very visible. "Yes, very dramatic. I was almost impressed by how tragic it was, except--" he jabbed a finger at Wilbur, "--one, your death was helpful to exactly nobody - rather inconvenient, actually - and two, you have a chance to heal and you threw it away. Like the overdramatic theater kid you are."

"Now listen here, you bastard--"

"Oh, and making your dad kill you? Dick move." Dream nodded. "And now that Philza here is no longer under the immense stress of having his son encouraging him to unalive him, I am sure he has a lot he'd like to say to you."

Slowly, Wilbur turned to face him. Philza found himself gaping at his son, unable to form words. Everything had happened so quickly, his mind was still reeling.

"W-Wil," he stammered. Wilbur stared at him for a moment, then abruptly spun on his heel and headed for the cliff.

"Nope," he snapped. "I can't do this. I'm not doing this."

"You are," Dream corrected cheerily. He grabbed Wilbur by the back of his coat and yanked him away from the edge. "And you better get used to talking, because you are getting so much therapy after this."

Wilbur was unceremoniously shoved back in Philza's direction. Still, he refused to make eye contact, instead glaring at the floor like it had personally offended him. "Just get it over with," he muttered.

Philza gathered the shattered remains of his composure and drew himself up. "Wilbur, it's. . . it's going to be okay."

A loud crunch shattered the silence. Philza, Wilbur and Dream all turned to see a dust-covered Tommy raising another handful of popcorn (how the fuck had he gotten popcorn in the middle of a war?) to his mouth. He paused when he realized that they were looking at him. "Oh no, don't mind me. This is the best shit I've seen in years."

Philza didn't know how to address that. So he didn't. "We can help you, Wil. We're going to help you. I don't know what happened, and I don't know why, but please--"

Wilbur let out a noise of alarm as Philza staggered forward, shielding his face with one hand and reaching out with the other. The brunette caught his father almost on autopilot, and was instantly dragged into a rib-crushing hug. "Urk-- Phil-- Dad?"

Philza let out a strangled sob. "Please never do that again," he whispered. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

Wilbur stammered, at a loss for what to say. Eventually, he gave up and just slumped into the hug, neither returning nor fighting it. Philza hugged him all the tighter, pressing his face into Wilbur's shoulder and feeling him breathing and alive.

"Um. . ." a voice spoke up behind him, wavering and uncertain. "Is this. . . uh. . ."

"Puffy! How'd you find us?" Green flashed in his vision as Dream brushed past him. Philza loosened his hold enough to poke his head out of the hug and get a glimpse of what was going on. When Wilbur tried to completely break away, Philza tightened his grip. Wilbur winced and stopped fighting.

"I just. . . followed the smoke," 'Puffy' said, sounding mildly disturbed. Philza twisted to get a good look at her, and was mildly surprised to see a short woman with frizzy two-toned hair. "Why does this place look like it was nuked?"

Dream winced. "Because. . . it was. Blown up, I mean. Not nuked. Yet."

"Let's just say we're all gonna need a shit-ton of therapy," Tommy piped up. He shoved another handful of popcorn in his mouth and proceeded to chew noisily.

Puffy stared at him, then looked at the smoking remains of L'Manberg and visibly gathered herself. "O. . . kay. Is that why I was invited to the server?"

"No, actually. Though if you do know anything about therapy--" Dream threw a significant glance at the smoking crater outside, "--I'm sure a lot of people would be willing to pay for a session or two."

". . . Alright. I'll still need a couple days to set up shop and get to know everyone, but I can mark down a few appointments ahead of time." She smiled wryly. "At least I can put my degree to use."

Philza tightened his grip on Wilbur, pasted a plastic smile on his face, and cleared his throat. Wilbur stiffened, realizing what was about to happen. "Phil," he hissed, panic clear as he tried to wiggle out of the hug. "Phil, no."

"Could I get an appointment for my son?"

Wilbur let out a longsuffering groan and turned his face towards the ceiling of the cave. Philza squeezed him in retaliation, his grin widening at Wilbur's yelp of "My ribs!" followed by a series of expletives.

Puffy visibly restrained herself from asking questions, instead giving him a sharp nod of her head. "Would. . . three days from now work? I should have a place set up by then."

"Perfect," Philza chirped. He hugged Wilbur a bit tighter, and the protest that had been rising in the man's throat died in a squeak of air. "Morning or afternoon?"

". . . I'll get back to you on that." At Philza's acquiescence, Puffy turned to Dream. "Anything I need to know before I start building?"

"Avoid TNT," Dream advised. "And stay away from L'Manberg. Unless you like property damage, in which case feel free to build nearby."

Puffy rubbed her forehead. As a fellow new member on the server, Philza could relate. ". . . You know, Dream, when you invited me, this was not what I was expecting." She held up a hand before Dream could speak. "No. Don't even. Come find me after you've had a shower and a full night's sleep, and explain to me exactly what happened on this server. Capiche?"

Dream opened his mouth. Closed it. Let out a defeated sigh. "Yes, Puffy."

"Good." With that, the sheep hybrid spun on her heel and disappeared into the tunnel. Philza watched her go with no small amount of curiosity. She clearly was not a woman to be reckoned with.

Wilbur shifted, abruptly reminding Philza of the situation at hand. "Phil? Will you let go now?"

"No."

"Oh for fuck's sake--"

143. (credit to Smallest)

"AAAAAAAAAAAA--"

"Dream--"

"--AAAAAAAAAAA--"

"Dream."

"--AAAAAAAAAAA--"

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

"--AAAAAA-- HCK! Ow ow ow-- what was that for?!"

"For being a bitch. Now will you stop screaming and listen?"

"You can't sneak up on me like that and expect me not to scream! What the fuck did you even do to yourself?!"

"Another botched hybrid attempt," Tommy admitted. He wiggled his deformed limbs. "Drank half a spider potion, but the DNA mix is pretty random so I'm a bit. . . uneven. Looks pretty cool, eh?"

Dream stared at him for approximately three seconds before shuddering and looking away. Coward. "Have you. . . tried milk?"

"Nope, and I'm not gonna." Tommy smiled, his chelicerae parting to reveal inhumanly sharp teeth in an otherwise human mouth. "I'm going to be the server cryptid this loop. This is a perfect opportunity to fuck with people."

". . . Well, yes," Dream said. "But have you considered how dangerous it might be to scare a server full of traumatized people?"

Tommy snorted. "They'll be too busy trembling in fear to try to kill me." At Dream's dubious stare, he rolled his eyes. "Relax. What's the worst that could happen?"

"KILL IT WITH FIRE!"

"Oh shit-- Tubbo! Chill! Tubbo put that down-- it's me! It's Tommy!"

"A LIKELY STORY!"

Tommy was forced to dive aside as another gout of flame scorched the area where he'd been. Seriously, where did Tubbo get a flamethrower? "I messed up a potion!" he babbled. "Fuck-- Tubbo, stop trying to roast me!"

"YOU CAN'T HAVE MY SOUL, DEMON!"

"I'm not a demon! What the fuck do I have to-- OH FUCK!" Tommy scrambled to the side, narrowly avoiding a plume of fire. He didn't want to become an extra-crispy spiderman kebab. "TUBBO, IT'S ME! WOMEN! PRIMES! HOT GIRL!"

The next attack never came. Tubbo cautiously lowered the flamethrower, eyes round with something between awe and horror.

". . . Tommy?"

Tommy practically melted to the ground with relief. "Thank fuck. Yeah, Tubs, it's me. I had a potion accident."

Tubbo squinted. "What kind of potion does that?"

"Well--"

"Tubbo?!" The door slammed open to admit one Ranboo Beloved into the mansion. "Tubbo, why is the house on fi-- WHAT IS THAT."

"Hi, Ranboob."

Ranboo gaped at him, stammered for a moment, and promptly fell backwards in a dead faint.

"Wimp."

~~~

"NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE!" Karl yeeted another book at Tommy. It missed by a mile and crashed into his desk, knocking over an inkpot. Tommy hissed and scuttled up the wall, eliciting a high-pitched shriek.

The door slammed open and Sapnap stormed inside, axe in hand. "Karl! I heard screaming whAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Karl wailed.

"Ayup," Tommy greeted.

Sapnap nearly dropped his axe. "IT TALKS?!"

"I DON'T KNOW!"

"I like women."

"IT TALKS!" Sapnap screamed. Tommy cocked his head a little too far to the side. This apparently was the last straw for Sapnap, who screeched like a dying parakeet and hurled his axe at him.

That was his cue to go. "I'll be back," Tommy hissed. He then (to the horror of his audience) tore through the wall with his bare. . . hands? Feet? And retreated into the shadows of the night. Karl and Sapnap were left staring at the decimated West Wall of the library.

". . . What the fuck."

Karl began laughing hysterically.

~~~

MODEL: ALPHA-03

DESIGNATION: SAM_NOOK

STATUS: [PASSIVE]

ENERGY: [LOW]

MODULES:

>MOD_SIGHT<

>MOD_AUDIO<

>MOD_WORDS<

>MOD_SPEECH<

>MOD_MVMT<

[expand]

MISSION:

1. PROTECT <TOMMYINNIT> >MOD_MVMT< MUST BE ACTIVE TO ACHIEVE THIS MISSION

2. MONITOR THE HOTEL

> MAINTAIN PASSIVE OBSERVATION OF HOTEL ACTIVITY UNTIL ENOUGH ENERGY HAS BEEN RETAINED FOR ACTIVATION

> CONDUCT CHECKS AT INTERVALS OF [00:05:00]

> RECORD SUSPICIOUS ACTIVITY

[ACTIVITY LOG]

[09:10:00] NO ACTIVITY DETECTED.

[09:15:00] NO ACTIVITY DETECTED.

[09:20:00] NO ACTIVITY DETECTED.

[09:23:06] >MOD_SIGHT< DETECTS MOVEMENT BY A HUMANOID FIGURE. INTRUDER IDENTIFIED AS <JACK_MANIFOLD>.

[09:23:31] <JACK_MANIFOLD> ENTERS HOTEL.

[09:25:00] NO ACTIVITY DETECTED.

[09:26:45] >MOD_AUDIO< DETECTS A MUFFLED BANG.

[09:26:46] >MOD_AUDIO< DETECTS A HUMAN VOICE. >MOD_WORDS< IDENTIFIES PHRASE AS A 83.2 DECIBEL VOCALIZATION OF "OH FUCK NO" BY <JACK_MANIFOLD>.

[09:26:50] >MOD_AUDIO< DETECTS CONTINUOUS VOCALIZATIONS OF EXTREME DISTRESS FROM <JACK_MANIFOLD>.

[09:26:52] <JACK_MANIFOLD> EXITS HOTEL AT HIGH VELOCITY AND LEAVES VIEW. >MOD_AUDIO< DETECTS CONTINUOUS VOCALIZATIONS OF EXTREME DISTRESS FROM <JACK_MANIFOLD>.

[09:30:00] NO ACTIVITY DETECTED.

~~~

"There is an eldritch being on the Needle!"

Purpled barely restrained a flinch of surprise at the sudden comment. He turned to Slimecicle. "What?"

"There is an eldritch being on the Needle!" Slimecicle pointed at the Needle. Purpled followed his gaze and saw that there was indeed a large. . . black. . . thing hanging off the side of the tower.

". . . Huh," Purpled said.

"Should we alert Quackity from Las Nevadas?"

The large black thing moved, scuttling about three feet up the side of the Needle. Then it twisted its body at an anatomically impossible angle and looked straight at them.

". . . Nah," Purpled decided. He wasn't paid enough for this shit.

144. (credit to Smallest)

"Everyone ready?"

Wilbur plucked at the collar of his coat, a scowl on his face. "Are you sure--"

"A hundred percent, big man. 'Sides, I told you Dream'll play along. Worst comes to worst, we just pearl away and run like hell."

"Question," Fundy called as he stumbled out of the van, pulling at his sleeves. "How did you know our exact sizes? Did you shrink us in another loop or something?"

"Nah, I tested out proportions an' shit on myself and made guesses based on your sizes. It worked out pretty well." Tommy beamed at them, then swept a stick up from the ground. "Better get your weapons ready, 'cause Dream's gonna be here any minute."

The five L'Manbergians arrayed themselves in defensive positions on either side of the gates (some with more hesitance than others). Tommy motioned for the others to be quiet, then cocked his head. They all heard the footsteps in the distance, growing steadily louder.

Dream stepped through the gates, shield and sword raised. He scanned his surroundings, wary, then made as if to turn around.

"ATTACK!"

Dream was bowled over by an angry child, who proceeded to sit on his chest while the other four pinned his limbs down. "Surrender, tyrant!" Tommy declared, pointing his pointy stick at Dream's face. "You have been defeated!"

"Why are you a child," said Dream.

Tommy beamed at him. "Because it's fun! Will you play with us?"

Dream opened his mouth. Closed it. Turned to Wilbur, who had a firm grasp on his right arm. "Did you agree to this?"

"Yes," Wilbur admitted.

"Why?"

". . . Tommy made some very persuasive arguments," was all Wilbur could say. Dream inhaled through his nose, glanced at the miniature Tubbo pinning his left arm down, and closed his eyes.

"Fuck it. Sure, I'll play with you, if you can get a picture of Sapnap's face when he sees us."

"Deal," Tommy chirped, and shoved a potion down Dream's throat.

~~~

"Why didn't he tell us he was going ahead?!"

"I don't know," George snapped. "It should be alright, Dream can hold his own--"

"Dream's a good fighter, but he can't hold out forever in a four-v-one," Punz interrupted. He sped up. The other two followed his lead.

Sapnap pulled ahead, soon overtaking Punz. He burst through the gates into L'Manberg, decked out in armor and fully expecting to find Dream fighting for his life.

Instead he found five children batting at each other with sticks.

"Surrender!" Mini-Dream shrieked.

"Never!" Mini-Wilbur shrieked back, and proceeded to lunge at him with a stick. Mini-Dream squealed and parried with his own stick, then retaliated. He was outnumbered four-to-one, but somewhere in the fray he'd managed to acquire a second stick and was doing a decent job of beating the other children back.

Sapnap felt George and Punz come to a stop behind him. "What," George said.

The fight fell apart as its participants turned to stare at the newcomers. Mini-Dream brightened at the sight of them. "George! Sapnap! Punz!"

"What," George repeated, then added "the fuck" for good measure.

"We're playing Revolution!" Mini-Dream beamed up at him. "Will you play with us?"

George just stared back, at a loss for words. Meanwhile, a miniaturized Wilbur Soot marched up to them.

"That's not fair!" he cried. "You can't have grown-ups on your team!"

"Can too!" Mini-Dream argued back.

Punz lowered his sword. "I'm not doing this," he declared, turned on his heel, and marched out of L'Manberg. Sapnap had half a mind to follow him, but before he could, something tugged on the cloth of his pant leg. He looked down to see Mini-Dream.

"Play with us," the child insisted.

Sapnap glanced back at George for help. Unfortunately, George had been stunned into silence. Sapnap was forced to scramble for an excuse.

"U-uh, isn't it unfair to the others?"

"I can play on their side," Mini-Dream chirped, and Sapnap could've sworn that the child had just flashed an evil smile at him. "That'll make it fair!"

"But what if we don't want to play with you?"

Dream's eyes widened. His lower lip began to tremble.

Ohhhh shit. "I was joking!" Sapnap yelped. "We'll play with you!"

Dream's puppy dog eyes melted into a wide grin. "Yes!" he cheered, and dashed over to the other children (presumably to plot).

"Do something," Sapnap hissed at George. George shot him a look and gestured at the gang of feral children now approaching them with sharp, pointy sticks.

"You want me to fight that?"

Needless to say, the two soldiers found themselves corralled into various games for the rest of the day. Unbeknownst to them, it would be the start of a beautiful political alliance.

145. (credit to Smallest)

TW: Referenced suicidal ideation

He clambered onto the ledge and rubbed his hands together, wincing as his bones ached in anticipation. The pockmarked landscape seemed to sway below him. He took a deep breath and steeled himself. He could do this. He's done it before. He just needed to calculate the angle right, and it'd be pretty much painless.

"Oh," Someone gasped behind him, quiet and panicked. When they spoke, their voice was trembling. "Tommy, maybe. . . do you want to get down from there?"

Tommy blinked and turned around. It was Eret, dressed in full royal regalia and eyes wide behind his sunglasses. He was half-crouching, hands hovering in the air like he didn't know what to do with them.

Well. This was unexpected.

"Ayup," Tommy greeted. He glanced down at the bottom of the crater. Behind him, Eret's breath hitched. Tommy sighed. "Would you believe me if I said this isn't what it looks like?"

"Tommy," Eret said, and there was such fear in his voice that Tommy flinched. "Please get down from there."

Tommy slid off the ledge. The moment his feet touched solid ground, Eret was upon him, hands wrapping around his wrists and tugging him away from the edge. "You're okay," the monarch breathed. "It's going to be okay."

"It's not-- I wasn't trying to kill myself," Tommy protested. It fell upon deaf ears. "Seriously, Eret-- hey, no-- let go--"

"Tommy, you were about to jump off a cliff," Eret hissed. "There isn't-- you--" he took a deep breath. " Prime, Tommy. I know you don't-- trust me, not after I betrayed you, but-- if you need to talk--"

"Eret, I promise I wasn't gonna-- it was for-- something else."

Eret stared at him. "What else would you try to throw yourself off a cliff for?"

. . . And therein lay the issue. If he wanted to explain why he wanted to become a ghost, he'd have to explain the loops. Which meant a long-winded explanation that Eret would forget by the next loop, which was just plain annoying. But also, dealing with a misconception that he'd been about to do that would be troublesome as well.

He was still debating about the merits of revealing the loops when Eret pulled out a comm. Shit, Tommy must have been silent for too long. "Eret--"

"I'm calling Tubbo," Eret soothed in a calming voice that Tommy would have found grounding if he'd actually been considering suicide. But he wasn't, so it was just very irritating. "Tommy, we're going to help you, I promise."

Tommy contemplated the merits of throwing himself off the cliff, if only to avoid the upcoming conversation. Eret must have noticed him side-eyeing the ledge, because he casually slid in front of it. "Tubbo?" he said into the comm.

"Hey Eret." Tubbo sounded distracted. "What's up?"

Eret met Tommy's gaze. "I'm. . . I'm with Tommy right now. He just tried to. . . jump into the L'Manberg crater."

Tommy winced as a loud crash burst from the comm, followed by the sound of shattering glass. "He what?!"

"Tried to, ah, kill himself," Eret said quietly. Tubbo fell silent for several long, tense seconds. Then he sighed.

"Okay. That-- okay. Get. . . get him away from the crater, yeah? Take him to-- to the church. I'll meet you there."

The call ended with a beep. Eret offered Tommy a strained smile and held out a hand. "Come on. Let's go to the church."

Tommy snorted. "I'm not a little kid, Eret. I don't need to hold hands."

"Humor me. Please?" Eret asked, calm and so fucking patient. Tommy rolled his eyes and begrudgingly took Eret's hand. The monarch's smile grew a little bit more genuine.

As they began heading towards the Prime Path, Tommy mentally groaned at the thought of the conversation ahead. If he hadn't gotten those ideas for Toast, none of this would have happened.

Note to self: try to keep Toast restricted to Exile or prison loops. The risk of getting caught and fussed over was too great otherwise.

Loop Notes
142. Philza didn't let go of his son for a long, long time. Tommy laughed at Wilbur's misery.
143. I hope you're not too fond of your kneecaps, because he's coming for them.
144. L'Manberg won independence through a game of Sardines. SMP-L'Manberg relations thrived, built on spontaneously organized bouts of 'childish' games that everyone on the server participated in. It was a fun loop.
145. "They're being all-- weird and-- mushy and nice, Dream, I dunno how to deal with this shit-- It's not like I'm actually. . . y'know. Don't give me that look! I'm fine!"