ayo bored_baguette101 wrote a oneshot set in the ot universe! Go check it out (linked in comment on this line)!

146. (credit to Nife for the micronation name!)

"So let me get this straight. You made a micronation - a 'small country' - and named it 'Big Town'?"

"Choke on your tongue and die."

"Why child, I thought you'd be happy to see me," Wilbur drawled. He leaned casually against the wall surrounding the settlement, only to have his feet kicked out from under him. "You fucker--"

"First of all," Tommy began, "the age of adulthood in Big Town is sixteen, so you can't call us children. Second of all, all elderly are banned from Big Town and must be punted on sight."

"Right," Wilbur snorted. "And who are the elderly?"

"Everyone Dream's age and older."

Wilbur raised an eyebrow. "That's rather selective."

"You got a problem with that, bitch boy?"

"Tommy!" Tubbo tumbled through the gate before Wilbur could answer, a harried-looking Ranboo on his heels. "We finished plating your house, come take a look!"

"Plating?" Wilbur asked. Tubbo took one look at him and lunged, only to be dragged back by Ranboo.

"Wait wait wait!" the enderman hybrid yelped. "He's not in Big Town! You don't need to punt him!"

Tubbo considered this for a moment, then shrugged. "Okay, but do we need a reason to punt Wilbur?"

"No," Tommy chirped. Ranboo hastily tucked Tubbo under one arm and grabbed Tommy before he could enact physical violence upon Wilbur.

"I am so sorry," he said, then screamed and dropped both of his friends when sharp teeth dug into his arm. "Ow! Tommy!"

Tommy sat up, spat out a mouthful of grass, and grinned. "'S what you get for pickin' me up."

"You just-- you just bit me!"

"You got a problem with that?"

Ranboo stared at him in horror. "That-- you shouldn't have been able to in the position you were in-- how--"

"Spines are a social construct."

Wilbur snorted. "The child--"

"Not a child!"

"--views everything as a social construct. Including basic manners."

"Oh fuck you, you bitch. I'm polite. The politest. All the women love me--"

"Tommy," Ranboo groaned. Tommy flipped him off.

Wilbur waved away Ranboo's apologetic look. "I'm used to it. So what's this about plating Tommy's house?"

In answer, all three inhabitants of Big Town pointed to the structure looming over the wall. It was a tower of sorts, but the material it had been made out of was completely hidden under the thick layer of music discs tacked on every surface.

Wilbur stared at it. "That's an. . . interesting. . . tower."

"That's an interesting face," Tommy retorted. Ranboo choked on air.

"Burn," Tubbo whispered, then started cackling at the look on Wilbur's face.

~~~

"I'm not joining your stupid micronation!"

Tommy squinted and raised the megaphone again. "BUT WE HAVE HOME AND VEHICLE INSURANCE!"

"LEAVE!" Purpled shouted back. He ripped one of the Big Town recruitment flyers off the arrow that pinned it to his UFO, balled it up, and tossed it at Tommy. Of course, being the sharpshooter was, he nailed his target in the head. Tommy scowled.

"YOU CAN'T AVOID US FOREVER, PURPLED!"

Purpled answered by pulling out a crossbow. Tommy decided that a tactical retreat was in order, but not before he let Purpled know that he wasn't conceding defeat.

"I WILL BE BACK," he warned. "THAT IS NOT A THREAT, IT IS A PROMISE."

Purpled raised the crossbow. Tommy ran for his life.

~~~

"Can he join?"

Tommy looked at Ranboo. Then he looked at Slimecicle, who beamed and waved enthusiastically. A bit of his arm came off and splattered on the floor.

"Hello!" he burbled. "I'm Slimecicle! I am a human made of bones and flesh!"

". . . Right," Tommy said. "How old are you?"

"Over five millennia, I think! But I came out of the ground three days ago!"

Tommy turned to Ranboo. "Ranboo. My friend. My fellow citizen of our glorious micronation. Where the fuck did you find this guy?"

Ranboo shrugged. "He. . . actually found me? In the caves under the mountains."

"And what were you doing there?"

In answer, Ranboo pulled out a stack of diamonds. Tommy stared at him for a long moment, then held up a hand.

"Okay, let me get this straight. You went mining, found a stack of diamonds, and an eldritch entity?"

"I. . . guess?"

"Ranboob, you have so much main character energy."

~~~

Slimecicle ended up becoming Big Town's first honorary member. He would visit the micronation every other day or so, and spend the rest of his time exploring the server.

. . . Tommy may or may not have told him that a proper greeting was to throw glitter at people.

Needless to say, Slimecicle had developed quite a reputation by the third week of his aboveground existence.

~~~

"I come bearing gifts," Dream called. "Can I come in?"

"ENTER AND BE PUNTED," Tommy boomed through his megaphone.

Dream held up a wad of papers. "But I have blueprints for glitter cannons!"

Tommy glanced back at his two friends. "Do we want glitter cannons?"

Ranboo automatically turned to Tubbo, who smiled. Tommy felt a chill go down his spine.

"R-right," he stammered, then turned back to Dream. "HAND OVER THOSE BLUEPRINTS."

"Can I come in?"

"NO. GIVE US THE BLUEPRINTS, OR YOU WILL BE PUNTED."

Dream seemed to consider this for a moment, then shrugged and acquiesced to their demands. Tommy met him at the gate and swiped the packet from his hands. He flipped through them, then looked at Dream.

"I'm gonna give these to Tubbo."

Dream raised an eyebrow. "That's a risky move."

"When has that ever stopped us?"

~~~

Tommy returned to his friends, blueprints in hand. Tubbo took one look at them and began cackling like a maniac.

The other two inhabitants of the micronation exchanged glances and left him to it.

~~~

"Why," Ranboo said, staring at their new mechanized defense system, which involved glitter cannons, glitter catapults, and a fucking glitter nuke launcher Tubbo what the fuck. Tubbo smiled sheepishly and hit the button on the remote. The weapons sank back into the ground with a loud rumble, concealed from sight.

"In my defense. . . I was left unsupervised?"

147.

"Dream. Dream. Homeless green teletubby. Wake the fuck up right now."

Dream groaned as he clawed his way into wakefulness. "Wha. . .?" he slurred.

Tommy's face came into view above him. He was smiling, but his eyes were a tad too wide for the expression to be cheerful. "Dream, I did a thing."

"Hrmm. . ." Dream tried to shake off his grogginess, with minimal success. His next words were broken by a yawn. "What. . . did you do?"

"Aha, so--" Tommy cleared his throat-- "You know how I was experimenting with wardens and withers in the egg room?"

Dream did vaguely recall Tommy saying something about omelette creation via hostile mobs. He'd been awake for two days at that point, so it hadn't really registered. Now that he thought about it, though. . . couldn't the Crimson infect mobs?

He snapped fully awake as he realized that the roars, screams, and muffled explosions in the distance were not, in fact, the usual ambient noise of the server. His eyes narrowed.

"What happened."

Tommy smiled sheepishly. "I. . . mighthavekickstartedtheapocalypse?"

There were three seconds of silence as Dream parsed that out, then three more as he comprehended their meaning.

". . . You fucking what--"

148. (credit to Ori and Gabriel)

"Wilbur?"

Wilbur paused, looking up from the map he had been poring over for the better part of an hour. ". . . Eret? What's up?"

Eret clasped his hands behind his back and set his shoulders like a soldier preparing for battle. "Something's wrong with Tommy."

Wilbur nearly flipped his chair in his haste to stand. "Where is he?! Is he okay?!"

"It's. . . I'm not sure." Eret grimaced. "He's just-- honestly, it'll be easier if you just come see for yourself."

~~~

Wilbur followed Eret around the corner, coming face to face with an odd sight. Fundy had Tommy locked in a Full Nelson and was desperately trying to maintain his hold while preventing his toes from getting stepped on. Tommy, for his part, just kept walking forward, doing his damndest to drag Fundy with him.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Tommy didn't react, almost as though he hadn't heard Wilbur. Fundy, however, jumped like he'd been shocked and released Tommy. "D-dad!" he stammered. "Something's wrong with him!"

"He looks fine to me," Wilbur said. Tommy proceeded to walk directly into the wall surrounding L'Manberg, bounce off, and walk right back into it. ". . . Ah."

Fundy yanked Tommy back before he could give himself more brain damage. "As you can see," he grunted, "he's not 'fine'-- OW! OW OW FUCK! MY TOE!"

"He's been like that for fifteen minutes now," Eret said while Fundy wailed about his possibly-broken toe. "He only responds when his name is called, and when he does, it's always just to say 'L'Manberg is so beautiful at this time of day'."

"When his name is called?"

Eret sighed. "Tommy!"

Tommy stopped in his tracks, spun to face Eret (swinging poor Fundy around in the process) and beamed. "L'Manberg is so beautiful at this time of day!"

He then proceeded to turn right back around and. . . keep walking into the wall.

"What the fuck," said Wilbur.

"Indeed," said Eret.

Wilbur closed his eyes in the hopes that this bullshit was just some stress-induced hallucination. No such luck. When he opened his eyes, Tommy was still trying to become one with the blackstone.

"Tommy, come here," he said. Fundy's screech of protest as he was swung around yet again went ignored.

"L'Manberg is so beautiful at this time of day!" Tommy chirped, then turned away. So he didn't respond to commands, and the walking thing was a problem. They needed a way to move him to an enclosed space. What if. . .?

"Tommy," he called. The teenager spun to face him, mouth opening to deliver another line, but Wilbur interrupted him. "Tommy."

As he expected, the teenager closed his mouth, stood still for a couple seconds, then began speaking again. "L'Manber--"

"Tommy."

"L'Manberg is so beautiful at this time of day!"

So he'd restart the sentence every time his name was repeated. Interesting.

Wilbur turned to Eret. "Where's Tubbo? Is this happening to him too?"

"I'm. . . not sure. He went caving a little while ago. I'll message him."

"Call him back." Wilbur checked his inventory. Excellent, he had a boat. "We'll need all the help we can get."

~~~

"That's another shelf done," Punz called. He replaced the last book at the end of the bookshelf and grabbed another from the next shelf. "I'll start on this one."

"Wonderful," Sapnap groaned, sitting up and peeling the book he'd almost fallen asleep on from his face. "George, can you do another check?"

"Hello Dream," George said, sounding completely and utterly dead inside. Sapnap could relate. It had been six hours since. . . whatever the fuck happened to Dream had started, and the initial worry had faded into severe irritation.

As with the previous five times George had addressed him, Dream's posture remained unchanged. Only his mouth moved, and even then, it retained the unnerving smile that had been fixated on Dream's face since he'd started acting strangely.

"Greetings!" he chirped. "Are you here to help?"

Punz sighed and set his book down. "Look, we've been at this for six hours. Dream's not going anywhere like this--" he gestured to the metal cage they had constructed around the man-- "and I think we deserve a break."

"Urgh. . ." Sapnap rubbed his eyes. "My brain is fried. We've already gone through half of these, we've exhausted every possible option except--"

He paused, his heart sinking into his stomach. Punz side-eyed him. "Except. . .?" he prodded.

". . . Did we try saying yes?"

Silence descended upon the room, broken only when Punz's forehead met the table with an audible thunk. "Are you serious," the mercenary griped into the wood.

George just stared straight ahead, a look of pure resignation on his face. Almost robotically, he turned to face Dream. "Dream."

"Greetings! Are you here to help?"

". . . Yes."

Dream's smile widened, showing teeth. "Great! I need some materials to defend my land. Please collect a hundred yellow flowers and bring them back to me!"

"Yellow--" Sapnap spluttered. "Flowers? Why do you need those for the revolution?"

"To deal emotional damage to my enemies!" Dream beamed and offered no further explanation.

George grimaced. "That's. . . our best lead so far. Maybe if we do it, he'll go back to normal?"

"This is some magical bullshit," Punz muttered. "So we have to collect a hundred yellow flowers to possibly fix him?"

"Yes," George deadpanned. "Wait, are there even any flowers on this server? Because I think we might have. . . killed all of them. Or the ones nearby, at least."

Sapnap felt the inexplicable urge to set something on fire.

~~~

Tubbo knocked on the door. "Wilbur, are you in there? I've got dinner."

No answer. Tubbo frowned. "I'm coming in!"

He pushed the door open and was promptly met with the sight of a sobbing Wilbur, slumped in a chair with his head in his hands. "Please," he begged. "Please, just give Tommy back."

Tommy, who had somehow freed himself from the confines of the boat he'd been moved into and was now attempting to walk through Wilbur's desk, did an about-face and smiled at him with cold, dead eyes. "L'Manberg is so beautiful at this time of day!"

Wilbur began to sob louder. Tubbo quietly backed out of the room and shut the door.

If Wilbur wanted food, he could get it himself. Tubbo didn't want to be involved with whatever the fuck was happening.

149. toddler tales, pt. 9

"Are you sure they'll be okay?"

Puffy sighed. "Sam. You've already asked this twice. The answer's not going to change."

"But we're leaving them all alone in the house--"

"The door's locked, they're tucked in bed and not waking up for at least another five hours. That's long enough for us to get to Philza's house and back."

"But what if they wake up and find out we're gone and go looking for us--?"

Puffy stopped in her tracks, put her hands on Sam's shoulders (with some difficulty-- the height difference was honestly ridiculous) and looked him in the eyes. "Sam. They're safe. They're going to be fine."

The creeper hybrid looked away, rubbing his forehead. "I. . . right. Sorry, just. . ." he gestured in the direction they'd come from. "They're. . . they can't defend themselves right now."

"I know. But if we want to help them, we need to do this. So calm down."

Sam's shoulders slumped, but he nodded to show his understanding. Puffy released him with a pat on the arm. Together, they made their way into L'Manberg, weapons stowed away but nerves on high alert. Their wariness seemed unwarranted, however, because they didn't run into a single person.

Puffy paused at the bottom of the steps, glancing back at Sam. "You ready?" she asked. Sam nodded, and together, they ascended the stairs to the entrance. The door was ajar, the edge splintered as though it had been kicked in. Puffy narrowed her eyes, then drew her sword and nudged the door open.

A man was crouched over a chest, picking through it and muttering something under his breath. Sam blinked at his back.

"Quackity?"

Quackity spun around, an easy smile sliding over his surprise. "Sam. Puffy! What brings you here?"

". . . We ran into a mini Tommy earlier, and we figured Philza would know something about it." Puffy's gaze swept over the ransacked chests, overturned furniture, and shattered glass. "What happened here?"

"Philza didn't agree with house arrest. If you're looking for him, he's long gone by now."

Sam and Puffy exchanged glances. "Any chance you know where he went?"

"You're in luck." Quackity grinned, holding something up. It appeared to be a compass, cracked in places and obviously assembled from damaged parts. The needle pointed insistently in one direction. "I have a compass."

~~~

"Ah, shit."

Technoblade looked up from where he'd been pulling his armor off. "Phil?"

Philza turned from where he was standing by the window. "Techno, there are people outside."

"Heh?!" Technoblade hurried over to the window and squinted into the snow, paling when he saw three figures in the distance. "How did they find this place? I destroyed the compass, there shouldn't be anything leadin' back here!" He shook himself. "Doesn't matter. Phil, you up for a fight?"

"When am I ever not?" Phil laughed. Technoblade rolled his eyes and strapped his chestplate back into place, then began digging through a chest of potions. Philza, meanwhile, threw his armor on with all the ease of a seasoned veteran and drew a sword. As one, they turned towards the entrance-- only to stop when a knock resounded through the door.

"Oh, that's not good," Philza muttered.

"Technoblade?" The voice didn't belong to any of the Butcher Army. Rather, it sounded like. . . Captain Puffy. From what Technoblade could recall, he hadn't done anything to gain her ire - in fact, he was pretty sure they were on neutral terms, leaning towards friendliness. Why was she here? "Technoblade, are you home? We just want to talk."

"Who's with you?" Technoblade called back.

"Uh. Sam and--" Puffy was cut off when the doors shuddered. Technoblade grabbed Philza and dragged him back just as they flew open. On the other side, a familiar silhouette lowered its foot.

Technoblade adjusted his grip on his sword. "Quackity."

"Technoblade. Philza," Quackity greeted, stalking into the house. Puffy and Sam trailed after him. The creeper hybrid even had the decency to wrench the doors back into place - not that Technoblade was in any mood to appreciate it.

"Get out," he ordered. "We're not fightin' in my house."

"That's not for you to decide." Quackity smiled, the scar tissue cutting through his lip distorting. "Two against three. Odds aren't in your favor."

"You're forgettin' who you're talkin' to, Quackity."

"Wait wait wait wait wait!" Sam stepped between Quackity and Technoblade, his trident disappearing in a flash of light. "We're not here for a fight--"

"Shouldn't have brought Quackity, then."

"--we just want some answers." Sam glanced back at the other two, an edge of desperation in his voice. "We'll even put away our weapons! See?"

Puffy, who hadn't been holding a weapon in the first place, raised her hands and glanced at Quackity. Quackity reluctantly lowered his axe, taking a step back as it disappeared into his inventory.

Technoblade's eyes narrowed. At this distance, it was child's play to summon a weapon mid-lunge and take someone's head off. "We're not puttin' our weapons away."

Quackity bristled, but Puffy intervened before he could speak. "That's fine! That's fine. We just want some answers."

"What answers?"

". . . How did Tommy and Dream turn into children?"

Technoblade felt Philza shift. He deliberately kept his gaze fixed on Puffy. "What makes you think I know?"

"Tommy told us about his kidnapper," was the dry answer. Technoblade lowered his sword so he could raise one hand to his face.

"Of course," he muttered, then leveled a glower at them. "Look, if I tell you, will you leave me alone?"

"Yes--"

"Wasn't askin' you." Technoblade pointed a clawed finger at Quackity. "He's gotta agree before I tell you."

Quackity bared his teeth, but he didn't draw a weapon, which was a good sign in Technoblade's opinion. "Fine," he ground out. "Tell us what happened to Tommy and we'll get out of your fucking hair."

Technoblade stared at him for a long moment. Quackity raised his chin and met his gaze with a scowl. There was a good chance the duck hybrid was lying, but on the off chance that he wasn't. . .

Technoblade really wasn't in the mood for a fight today.

"Listen, I wasn't there when it happened. I was out huntin', came back and found two toddlers in my house. Workin' theory is that Tommy messed up a potion, threw it at Dream, and got both of them turned into kids."

"Oh," Sam breathed, like he'd just received Enlightenment. "The milk."

Before Technoblade could ask what that meant, Quackity drew his axe. Technoblade and Philza raised their own weapons in retaliation, while Puffy and Sam backed up. "Woah woah woah wait," Puffy protested, raising her hands. "Quackity, what are you doing?!"

Quackity ignored them, his lips drawing back into a sneer. "Okay, fuck this. Technoblade. This ends today."

Technoblade had expected Quackity to go back on the deal, but he'd really hoped to avoid a fight. Oh well. "You couldn't beat me last time. What makes you think you can beat me now?"

Quackity opened his mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by something slamming against the door. "YEET!" a muffled voice screamed outside. A moment later, the doors of the house came crashing down. Dream stormed in, decked out in full netherite and wielding an axe and shield.

Technoblade blinked, a protest against property damage dying on his lips. "You grew up," he said instead.

"I drank milk," Dream answered. Which made no sense to Technoblade, but sure. As long as he didn't have to deal with a toddler again.

"Dream!" Sam cried. "You-- where's Tommy?"

Cold silence descended upon the room as the fighters realized that Tommy was nowhere in sight. Abruptly, Quackity raised his axe.

"Where is he?" he snarled, advancing on Dream. "What the fuck did you do to him?"

"Woah woah woah!" Dream backpedaled, raising his shield to ward off a blow. "Tommy's fine! We separated before I changed back--"

"Like hell I'll believe that--"

The window shattered. Quackity whipped his shield up, but it was useless against the mist that engulfed the room. Shouts of alarm were swallowed up in the colorful smoke. When it dissipated, Tommy poked his head through the broken window, grinning.

The grin slid off his face when he saw the six toddlers scattered around the room, all blinking dazedly down at the giant pieces of armor that surrounded them. Slowly, toddler Dream turned to Tommy.

"Oops?" Tommy whispered. "I. . . I thought it was Paralysis. . ."

"I am going to kill you," Dream informed him.

"Fair."

150.

TW: Implied Abuse

Dream sighed as he came to a stop beside Schlatt's office. He'd been more active in Manberg this loop, taking the role of a pseudo-assistant to see if he could save the nation through bureaucracy. To be honest, it wasn't looking great so far, and he was sorely tempted to say "fuck it" and prank Schlatt into behaving.

He had just raised his hand to knock when a loud thud reverberated through the door. Dream reared back, alarmed. "Schlatt?" he called. When there was no answer, he continued. "I have, uh, some forms for review."

A voice sounded from the other side, muffled. Dream couldn't figure out what they were saying, but their words were laced with panic. "I'm coming in," he warned, and shoved the door open.

Schlatt was standing in front of him, face carved in an angry snarl. His hair was in a disarray, his tie was askew, and he had a bottle clutched in one hand. Dream took a subtle sniff and grimaced at the stench of alcohol.

"Leave it and get out," Schlatt snarled.

Dream raised an eyebrow (not that Schlatt could see it). "Alright, alright," he muttered, sidling over to the desk and depositing the stack of papers. As he did so, he conducted a surreptitious scan of the room. There didn't appear to be anyone else here - but the other voice most definitely had not been Schlatt's. "I need these by the end of--"

"Get out."

Dream clamped down on a flash of irritation. Bureaucracy was obviously nowhere near as effective as ghost tactics. He made a mental note to drop the project and glitter bomb Manberg if Schlatt continued to drink, then offered his 'boss' an affable nod and ambled towards the door. "I'll be back later," he warned.

He had almost reached the door when a sound caught his ear. He paused mid-step, head cocking as he listened. There it was again - a hiccuping, whistling breath beneath Schlatt's wheezing ones. The sound of someone trying to hyperventilate quietly. It was coming from in front of him, but not from the hallway.

Dream reached out and swung the open door away from the wall, revealing the figure hidden behind it. Quackity stared back at him, eyes wide. His shaking hands were clamped over his mouth, stifling his rapid breaths. His wings - gold, rarely seen post-Pogtopia - pressed against the wall behind him, almost like he was trying to hide them. One appeared to be damaged, feathers bent and knocked askew as though someone had attempted to grab them.

A heavy hand settled on his shoulder. Slowly, Dream turned, meeting Schlatt's gaze. The ram hybrid was definitely drunk - enough that he could no longer control his temper, but not enough to attack Dream. After all, Dream was a valuable ally - even if he was currently playing secretary. Quackity, however, was his subordinate and thus fair game.

Well. This certainly complicated things.

Dream postponed his internal screaming fit, reached up, and lifted Schlatt's hand off his shoulder. "Hey," he said to Quackity. "I've been looking for you - I have some questions about filing. Do you have a minute?"

Quackity's gaze darted past him, to Schlatt, then back to him. "I-- I--"

"Great!" Dream took a step back, shouldering Schlatt away and placing himself between the two men. "Let's go to your office. We can talk there."

"Now wait a minute," Schlatt said behind him, and Quackity flinched. Dream let out a friendly chuckle and took another step back, physically barring Schlatt from reaching forward.

"Sorry, mister president. I've been waiting a long time to ask, and I don't want to spend another week chasing him down." He jerked his head towards the door. Thankfully, Quackity caught the cue and hurried out of the room. Dream followed, shoulder-checking Schlatt on his way out.

"This isn't over!" The president hollered at their backs. Dream slammed the door shut and wasted no time in leading Quackity down the hallway. Every instinct screamed at him for showing Quackity his back, but Quackity was more likely to panic if anyone was close to his wings at the moment.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked instead. He heard Quackity's footsteps stutter.

". . . Didn't you say--?"

"I was lying. To get Schlatt off my back, you know?"

"Ah." There was a rustling noise, like feathers against cloth. ". . . Well, thanks for the save, b-but I'm good now."

Dream was almost impressed with how quickly Quackity had pulled on a façade of calm. He slowed, peering over his shoulder. Quackity's hands were balled into fists, and his wings were puffed up. Defensive. Quackity didn't trust him, but. . . "Are you sure?"

Quackity nodded, a single, sharp jerk of his head. Dream knew when to pick his battles, so he shrugged and came to a stop outside Quackity's office.

"Okay then," he hummed, ignoring the way Quackity's feathers bristled. "I'll be in my office if you need anything."

Quackity grunted in acknowledgement and shut the door. Dream stared at it for a moment, then turned on his heel and headed down the hall.

The moment he was safely in his own office, Dream sank down into his chair and propped his elbows on the desk. He stared down at the paperwork without really seeing it, contemplating the events of the past five minutes.

He'd known that Schlatt hadn't treated Quackity well, but there was a difference between knowing something and actually seeing it. It was. . . jarring, realizing how different this Quackity was from his future self. What happened, to twist the weak-willed vice president into a monster? What had hurt Quackity?

He sighed, pushing himself up from the desk and stretching out a crick in his back. He had to change his plans - letting Schlatt hurt his subordinates was a no-go, even if it was just for a loop.

Might as well go check if Tommy wanted to join in on the fun.

Loop Notes
146. They kept a scoreboard of who got punted most often in front of the gate. Wilbur came in first, with Dream in close second.
147. It was bound to happen eventually.
148. Luckily, they stumbled across a flower field. Dream was 'fixed' after his friends completed the quest, much to their relief. On an unrelated note, Tommy woke up to find his bedroom filled with yellow flowers the next morning.
149. And thus concludes toddler tales! Next up: babysitting arc! (/j)