Chapter 24

116.

"Where'd he go?!"

"He just-- disappeared," Punz muttered. His gaze raked over the foliage. "He has to be in here somewhere - it's open plains for another half-mile in every direction. We would've spotted him if he ran."

"So he's hiding," Sapnap grumbled. "Great."

George groaned. "Can we just go home? He's a kid, he probably doesn't have much information--"

"He's Wilbur's right-hand man," Dream said. "We can't lose him."

"I'm with George on this one. There's like, a hundred trees. Tommy's probably hiding in one of them, waiting to get the drop on us." Sapnap shuddered, eyes growing distant. "Prime knows how he acts like a feral raccoon. . ."

Punz coughed out something that sounded suspiciously like rabies.

Dream's axe disappeared in a flash. The others turned to him, alert, but Dream just ignored them and took a deep breath.

"JUMP IN THE CADILLAC!" he hollered. Just in case Tommy couldn't hear him, he cupped his hands around his mouth and projected his voice as far as he could. "LET'S PUT SOME MILES ON IT! YOU DESERVE--"

"TO DIE!" Tommy howled, bursting from the foliage with his axe swinging. Dream ducked under the attack and pushed him over when he overbalanced, then proceeded to disarm him and sit on his back while he spouted expletives.

"Caught him," he grunted, twisting Tommy's arms behind his back and attempting to tie them together. Tommy wrestled one arm free and nailed him in the ribs. "Ow! Just stay still--"

"FUCK YOU!" Tommy screeched, thrashing wildly. "I WILL DESTROY EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE YOU CARE ABOUT!"

"Oh no," Dream droned with the air of someone who had received the same threat many times before. "What a tragedy. I definitely don't have a way to bring them back."

Twisting his head downwards, Tommy sank his teeth into the collar of his Revolutionary uniform and jerked his head around. Yellow powder puffed into the air, dusting Dream's face. The man reeled back, loosening his hold on Tommy, and Tommy bucked up and threw him off, rolling away from Punz as the mercenary tried to grab him.

At that moment, Dream began to sneeze uncontrollably. Tommy began sneezing as well as he rolled to his feet, his eyes watering with the force of it. Ducking under Sapnap's swipe, he withdrew a glass bottle from his inventory and smashed it open. Sapnap reared back, but it was too late - he, too, began to sneeze. George and Punz met similar fates when they stepped in. Tommy escaped in the ensuing chaos.

Two hours later, when they had managed to sneeze the drugs from their system, George peeled his face off the floor of the Community house and squinted at Dream. "So what was with the whole Bruno Mars bit?"

Dream, who had previously melted into the floor in a puddle of misery, burst into cackling. The sneezing left him sounding like something between an obnoxious koala and a cat choking on a hairball. "317," he wheezed. "I'm-- never gonna-- let him live that down."

". . . 317?"

Dream just cackled some more, and no matter how much his friends pressed him, he refused to elaborate.

117.

Ranboo was very confused.

It had been five hours since he'd joined the Dream SMP, and now he was standing in Niki's bakery, nose pressed to the window and eyes wider than dinner plates. Niki, standing behind him, let out a chuckle.

"Don't worry, it's normal."

"Normal," Ranboo repeated. He peeled his face away from the window long enough to send her a dubious look. "It's normal for it to rain glitter."

"Maybe not on a vanilla server," Niki admitted. "But on the Dream SMP, we make it a point to defy world mechanics."

". . . So it literally rains glitter here?"

"The glitter rain isn't natural - it's from Dream's glitter machine."

"Glitter machine," Ranboo echoed.

"Don't worry too much about it-- the glitter's 'edible and a hundred percent environmentally friendly' according to Dream, and when it actually rains, it dissolves. No harm done." Niki paused. "Except for the Glitter Flood of '21, but we don't talk about that."

"The what--"

The door of the bakery swung open. A man strolled in, miraculously glitter-free. He was dressed in a soft-looking white sweater and black slacks, topped off with a brown coat that flared dramatically with every movement. A pair of circular glasses rested on his face, frames the same gold sheen as the teardrop dangling from his left ear. "Hello!" he sang.

"Wil!" Niki beamed. "How'd you get here without an umbrella?"

'Wil' tapped his earring. "A mix of Knockback and Float with a surface area matrix," he explained. "Fundy invented it, actually. He got tired of shaking glitter out of his shoes."

"Let him know that I need one of those."

"Pretty sure he's already making you one," the man admitted. He turned to Ranboo. "And who might you be?"

"Oh, um, R-Ranboo. Nice to meet you. Sir."

The man snorted. "Wilbur Soot. Call me Wilbur. None of that 'sir' business, it makes me feel old." He paused. "Not that I'm old. And now I'm getting off topic. When'd you join the server?"

Ranboo frowned. "Uh-- five hours ago, give or take."

Wilbur lit up. "Ah, a newbie! Haven't seen it rain glitter before, have you?"

"No, it was certainly, uh, a surprise."

Wilbur snorted. "You'll get used to it. And the other stuff too."

"The. . . other stuff?"

Niki barreled into the conversation before Wilbur could answer. "So what're you here for, Wil?"

"Partially to test the earring, partially to ask if you had any crow cookies."

Niki perked up. "Oh, Tommy sent over a batch of potions this morning! How many do you want?"

"Just one and a milk capsule." Wilbur grinned, all teeth and wily mischief. "My old man joined yesterday, and I think it's high time I messed with him."

Niki sighed, disappearing behind the counter. She reappeared with a paper bag, which she handed to Wilbur. "Don't break his brain too much," she said. "You know what happened to Foolish."

Wilbur smiled. "Eh, Phil can handle it." He flipped a gold coin at the baker, who caught it with a dexterity that spoke of experience. "Thanks Niki, you're the best."

Ranboo eyed the bag with poorly-hidden curiosity. Wilbur caught his eye. "Ah, he doesn't know about the cookies yet, does he?"

"No," Niki confirmed cheerily. Ranboo felt a chill go down his spine. "But you might as well demonstrate."

Wilbur snorted, removed his earring and glasses and dropped them into his inventory. With a theatrical flourish, he pulled a. . . cookie out of his bag. Ranboo was pretty sure it was a cookie. It appeared to be made of dark chocolate (that, or Niki had somehow burned the cookie, because Ranboo didn't know what else could produce that shade of black) and had been baked in the shape of a. . . bird? Yeah, it looked like a bird.

Wilbur proceeded to aggressively bite the bird's head off. Ranboo took a step back, tail twining around his leg as the man devoured the cookie with unwarranted aggressiveness. When he finished, he brushed crumbs off his chin, winked at Ranboo, and. . . disappeared.

What.

"What," Ranboo said, staring at the pile of clothes Wilbur had left behind on the floor. His gaze switched to Niki, who was hunched over, giggling into her hand. "I-- Niki, what."

The pile of clothes shifted. Ranboo screeched, vaulting over Niki's counter and throwing himself to the floor. Tail lashing, he peeked out over the countertop to see a small black shape wiggling itself out of the cloth.

It was a bird. A crow, to be exact. The crow pecked at the clothing, which vanished in a flash. Ranboo's jaw fell open, because last time he checked, only players had inventories. Which meant the crow was--

"Wilbur?!"

Niki's giggles evolved into full-blown laughter. The crow cawed and flapped its wings, then hopped over to the door and whacked it. Niki regained control of herself long enough to shove it open, then fell back into laughter at the look on Ranboo's face when Wilbur performed a mock salute and took off.

When she finally calmed down, she grinned. "So how's your first day on the server so far?"

Ranboo turned a blank stare on her. "He just ate a cookie and turned into a bird."

Niki grinned wider.

". . . My brain is broken."

As if on cue, someone walked through the door of the bakery. Through, as in phased through solid wood. "Niki!" The teenager called. "I died again, can I borrow your comm?"

"Where did yours go?"

"Lava." The ghost (?????) scowled. The ectoplasmic lava spiderwebbed beneath his skin burned hotter. "I hate the Nether."

Niki winced and handed him her comm. "Ghasts again?"

"Went hunting for blaze rods. Apparently the fuckers don't like being stabbed." The ghost held the communicator up to his ear. "No," he bit out to the person on the other end. "It's Tommy. I went swimming in lava."

A pause. "No it wasn't on purpose, fuck off! I don't care if you're upgrading your glitter machine-- no. No! Just get over here and revive me."

He hung up with an aggressive jab of his finger and handed the communicator back to Niki. "Thanks, Niki." He turned to Ranboo. "New here, ay? Welcome to the Dream SMP. Can't give you a tour 'cuz I'm a bit dead right now, but I'll show you around when I get better."

Ranboo stared at him and wondered if it was too late to leave the server.

118.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Tubbo, it's a truth potion. Worst thing that'll happen is throwing up." Tommy shook the bottle, ignoring Tubbo's wince. "I do this all the time. It'll be fine."

He downed the potion in one gulp. Tubbo watched him, hands twitching nervously.

"Everything good?"

". . . Yeah." Tommy frowned. His vision was a little blurry. "Hurry up and ask me something."

"Oh. Right. Uh, what-- what color's the sky?"

"Red." Tommy paused. "Ask another one."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen-- huh. Maybe it takes a while to kick in?"

Tubbo winced. "Are you sure you're okay? You look-- you look a bit, uhhh. . ."

Tommy shook his head, setting the empty bottle down on the table. Tubbo was getting blurrier by the minute. He blinked a few times.

"Tommy?"

Tommy reached up to rub his eyes. Was it just him, or was the world looking a little-

~~~

"Everything is soup, if you think about it. It's all soup. Cereal is soup. Tea is soup. Water is just soup base. Time is soup in a giant bowl, stirred with a cosmic stirring spoon and it goes around and around."

"Okay," said the blur he was talking to. "Do you want to get down from the tree now?"

Tommy scowled and tightened his grip on the tree branch he was clinging to. "No."

The blur sighed. "Go get Fundy," it said to another blur. "He's a better climber."

"I'm not going down!" Tommy shrieked. "The tree's my home! My fortress! Fuck the ground, it's lava soup! I'm gonna-- I'm gonna move to the Antarctica server and become a flying squirrel!"

"Tommy, there aren't any flying squirrels in Antarctica. Or trees."

Tommy bared his teeth and hissed. At that moment, another blur appeared, this one bright orange.

"Tubbo said Tommy was stuck? Where's-- oh."

"You're a better climber," the first blur said. "Can you get him down before he hurts himself?"

"Yeah, I'll. . . I'll try." The orange blur approached the tree. Tommy clutched the tree branch.

"Don't come any closer!" he shouted. "I'll-- I'll murderize you!"

"Just stay calm, Tommy," the blur on the ground soothed. "You're gonna be okay."

Tommy glared at it. Hm. Now that he was looking at it, he'd realized that it looked very attackable. But if he attacked, he'd have to give up the tree.

"We had a good run," he told the bark. "But I'm off to better places. Greener pastures. Tastier lava soup. Beat anyone that tries to cut you down, okay?"

The tree hummed its agreement.

"Awesome," Tommy said. And then he leapt off the tree branch.

Alarmed shouts rang around him, but he spread his arms. He was a flying squirrel. He was the master of gliding. The best. His target dove forward and made an unnecessary attempt to catch him. They ended up in a tangled heap on the ground.

Tommy blinked up at the blur, dazed. "Oh hey Wilby," he giggled. "Your face looks funny."

Wilbur opened his mouth to speak. Tommy punched him in the jaw.

~~~

Tommy cackled, basking in the glorious warmth. He was unstoppable. The supreme power. God of the sun. Apollo had nothing on him. Tommy was the new Supreme Sun Deity now. He was gonna take over the galaxy. Intimidate everything with his overwhelming power and bring the world into a state of eternal summer. Technoblade couldn't create an Arctic Anarchist commune if there wasn't an Arctic!

"Found him! He's h-- WHERE THE FUCK DID HE GET FLINT AND STEEL?!"

"Where did he get what?!"

"Huh, so that's where the smoke came from."

"STOP TALKING AND HELP ME PUT OUT THE FIRE!"

~~~

Tommy squinted at the blur. "You're blue."

"Yes?" The blur asked. "I mean-- my clothes are blue, yes. Why are you here?"

"You're blue," Tommy repeated. "Like water. Like a cloud."

"What?"

"You're a cloud now."

The cloud paused. "Are you-- are you high?"

"I'm not high," Tommy sniffed. "You're just low. And how dare you insinuate that. I'd never ever ever do drugs."

"You literally started a drug van with Wilbur."

"I am so insulted. I cannot believe this slander. I hope you trip over a rock and die."

The cloud remained silent for a long moment. "I'm too tired for this," it decided.

"Yeah bitch, run!" Tommy shouted at its retreating back. Then he passed out.

~~~

"Tommy?"

Tommy groaned, peeling his eyelids apart. The sun shone down upon him, partially blocked by a familiar figure.

"Tommy," the figure repeated. "Are you okay?"

Tommy beamed. "Dream! You're a blob!"

"I'm a blob?" Dream sounded baffled.

"A green blob," Tommy agreed, pushing himself into a sitting position. His head swam. "Homeless. . . homeless green blob."

Dream laid a hand against his forehead. Tommy batted it away. "Nuh-uh. I'm not the cat, I'm the squirrel."

"You're burning up," Dream said. "Where's Wilbur?"

"He's a blur," Tommy giggled. "An acorn. A spot in the ground. I utterly obliterated him with my-- with my amazing sun-glidey powers."

"Okay. We're taking you to L'Manberg."

"No!"

". . . No?"

"No," Tommy insisted. There were bright lights in the distance, rising from the trees. "Dun' wanna go inside. The stars are pretty."

". . . Tommy, it's three in the afternoon."

"The staaaars," Tommy slurred. He grabbed Dream's hand and pointed it at a cluster of lights. "Look, it's hot girl."

Dream sighed. "Okay gremlin, I think it's time for bed."

Tommy found himself slung over Dream's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. A very long, lanky sack of potatoes. He was a lanky strong boy. Lankier and stronger than Ranboo. "Noooo," he whined, slamming his fists into Dream's back. "Don'-- don' wanna. I don't need sleep. Sleep is for the weak."

"You're sick," Dream said. "You need to sleep."

"I'm not sick, you're sick."

"Pretty sure that's not how it works."

~~~

"Dream!"

Tommy jerked out of the light doze he'd fallen into, blinking blearily at the ground. He was still a sack of potatoes, but the world was different now. There was a big wall. A big, big wall, with lots of blurs in front of it.

"Let go of him," one blur snarled.

"Okay, okay!" Tommy found himself being set on the ground. "Can you point that somewhere else? I'm not going to do anything."

"Tommy, come here," the blur said. Tommy frowned.

"No."

"No?"

"No." Tommy nodded to himself. He liked No. No was a very good word. "I have a mission." Probably. Maybe. He couldn't exactly remember what it was, but it would come back to him when he got started.

"You can complete your mission after you sleep," Dream said. He pushed him forward. Just to be contrary, Tommy didn't walk with the motion and fell flat on his face. Like a man.

"Ow," he said into the grass.

"Tommy!" someone cried. Arms wiggled their way under his shoulders and hoisted him up. Tommy went limp, pulling the person down with him.

"No," he repeated.

"Oh for fuck's sake," someone muttered. A second pair of arms slid under his torso and hoisted him into the air. He found himself in a fireman's carry. So he did the only reasonable thing he could do.

He tried to bite them in the shoulder.

Unfortunately, said shoulder was covered with an iron pauldron. His teeth scraped uselessly against the metal. He settled for gnawing at it.

"I'll-- just leave now," Dream said. "Uh-- let me know if you need anything?"

Stone-cold silence. Dream, ultimate Gaslight, was experiencing the ultimate Gatekeep. Tommy wasn't sure where the ultimate Girlboss was. Maybe he was the ultimate girlboss. He was definitely a boss. The biggest man there was.

"Okay," Dream said awkwardly. And then he ran like the coward he was. Tommy stopped chewing on the pauldron long enough to laugh at him.

". . . Should we just. . . I don't know, knock him out?"

"Let him wear himself out," the person carrying him said. "Tubbo, you said this was a. . . potion, right?"

"Truth potion. He said it was, um, supposed to be like a mild fever?"

"We don't know how Weakness might affect him then. Better not to risk it. He'll knock himself out sooner or later."

Oh, were they underestimating him?

Challenge accepted.

~~~

Tommy awoke with a pounding headache and a deep, unshakeable sense of regret.

"Urgh," he croaked, turning his face away from the light. "Can the sun just shut the fuck up?"

"Tommy!" Tubbo's voice drove nails into his brain. Hurried footsteps heralded the rasping of curtains. "Sorry, we thought sunlight would be good for you. Are you. . . uh, awake this time?"

Tommy peeked one baleful eye from beneath the blanket. "No shit, bitch."

"Do you still think you're a squirrel?"

"No?" Tommy paused. "A squirrel?"

Tubbo looked relieved. "Oh thank Prime."

"Wait, wait wait, no Tubbo, you can't just say that and not explain!" Tommy tried to push himself up, only for his arms to give out like wet noodles. "Fuck," he hissed into the pillow, then to Tubbo, "What the fuck do you mean 'do I think I'm a squirrel'? Did I think I was a squirrel?"

"Not exactly," Tubbo hedged. "More like Huitzilopochtli reincarnated as a flying vampire squirrel."

"Bless you," Tommy said. Then his brain caught up to the rest of the words. "Wait, what?"

"No, no, Huitzilopochtli's the Aztec sun god," Tubbo corrected, just a touch too gleefully. "Though I guess you weren't Huitzilopochtli specifically-- really an unspecified sun god reincarnated as a squirrel, but I assumed things since you kept demanding the blood of your enemies."

"What?" Tommy repeated.

"Anyway!" Tubbo clapped his hands cheerily, driving more nails into Tommy's brain. Tommy got the vague impression that he was feeling a sort of vindictive pleasure from Tommy's suffering. "Fundy's missing, Wilbur's crying in a corner somewhere, and L'Manberg is in fucking shambles, so I came to check if you were lucid yet. Which you are!"

"Which I am," Tommy echoed, a bit bemusedly. "Is-- is Wilbur really crying in a corner?"

"Has been since the last time you woke up," Tubbo chirped. "But to be fair, nobody expected you to burn your house down. Which is why you're in my house now."

"I what?"

Tubbo patted him on the arm, a motion made awkward by the fact that Tommy was still flopped on the bed like a dead fish. "You burned your house down. And a good chunk of L'Manberg. Which is why Wilbur is crying in a corner."

Tommy made a second attempt to sit up. He was fairly successful this time, though he had to prop himself up against the wall. ". . . What the fuck happened?"

"You don't remember?"

"No?" Tommy squinted at him. "Wait, I. . . we were testing a truth potion, right? I drank it, and then-- seriously, Tubbo, what happened? What the fuck did I do?"

Tubbo's smile slid off his face. He took a deep breath and stared Tommy dead in the eye with a gravitas that sent warning bells off in his head.

"Tommy, and I mean this in the nicest way possible-- never get sick again."

119. toddler tales, pt. 8

"Remind me why we're running away again?"

"Why not?"

Tommy scowled, tugging his cloak a bit tighter around himself. "Puffy had food and shelter--"

"--which we can easily get ourselves--"

"--we can't , because we don't have shit. " Tommy kicked a stray stick. "Unless you wanna use this to beat a rabbit to death. Or a zombie. If we get mauled, I'm blaming you."

Dream scowled at him and sped up. Just to be petty, Tommy began taking larger steps. His longer legs easily kept pace with Dream's stubby ones.

Dream's scowl deepened. "Cheater."

"Not my fault that you didn't want milk," Tommy sniffed. He glanced at the conspicuous lack of civilization around them. "Where are we going?"

"Nowhere." Tommy stopped in his tracks, sending him a look. Dream huffed. "Look, I was-- I stole a couple buckets of milk. I was thinking we could-- change back?"

Tommy blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

Dream sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "This whole-- kid business, it's funny but I don't think it's a good idea to keep going."

Tommy frowned. "Why not?"

"It isn't safe."

"Are you talking about Quackity?"

"No, that's not--" Dream sighed. "You remember when we agreed to at least try to keep our morals in check?"

"Yeah?" Tommy's eyes widened. "Wait, you mean you think this thing hurts them or something?"

Dream shuffled in place. "Not any. . . worse than anything we've done before, but Tubbo looked. . ." he sighed. "I'm worried about what will happen if we run into more people."

"George and Sapnap."

"Yes." Dream ducked his head, fingers twitching nervously. "It's not that this isn't fun, it is, but now that we've figured out how to undo it--"

"Dream," Tommy interrupted. "Do whatever the fuck you want. You're your own person, if you don't want to keep this up, you don't have to."

Dream's shoulders relaxed. "Okay. Yeah. I'm going to change back."

Tommy smirked. ". . . But you're still gonna be shorter than me--"

"Shut up."

~~~

Quackity ran his thumb over the name engraved in the metal.

Technoblade.

After he found the discarded ankle monitor, he'd returned to the tunnel where Technoblade killed him two weeks ago. Philza was long gone, but it was likely that he'd used this same tunnel to escape, and Quackity had hoped to gather some clues. He'd found the compass lying on the ground, forgotten and seemingly broken. The metal was dented and the glass cover was scattered in fragments across the ground.

He knew this compass. It was the one he'd used to find Technoblade the first time. He'd watched through blood-streaked vision as Technoblade tore it off of his belt and shattered it beneath his heel. It had been left here, likely as a last 'fuck you' to him. It should have infuriated him, would have infuriated him if not for one thing: the lodestone wasn't broken.

Lodestones. They were the most important part of the compass, the thing that would point it in the direction it was meant to go. Technoblade had probably meant to crush the lodestone when he'd destroyed the compass, but he'd missed.

And now Quackity had a way to track him down. Philza, too, seeing as the man had most likely joined him.

Fingers clenched tightly around the compass, the Vice President of L'Manberg spun on his heel and stalked out of the tunnel.

120.

"Yeah, well-- remember-- remember the guy we've been talking about? The-- the one who hurt me?"

"Yes."

Tommy licked his lips. "Um. I, uh, I learned something. Something. Bad. He's not doing anything to me," he added when Puffy's face darkened. "It was. Uh. He was, I think he was-- tortured?"

The words hung in the uneasy silence. Puffy adjusted her grip on the clipboard. "I. . . see. And how does that make you feel?"

Tommy gritted his teeth. "See, he was-- hurt 'cause this other guy. Wanted information about something he knew. But um, I knew the other guy, he was always real nice to me and I think-- I think he was uh, upset, about the-- the stuff he did, right, to me and everyone else, and he suffered for a really long time-- and that was part of why he hurt him. Thing was, nobody knew it was happening-- and like, yeah, he hurt me, but he got hurt too, so. . ."

Puffy set her clipboard down. "Tommy. He was hurt, yes. But that doesn't mean it was okay for him to hurt you."

Tommy knit his hands together and didn't look up. "You didn't see 'im," he muttered. "You didn't see what. . . what they did to him. He-- he was the absolute worst, but-- he didn't. . . I don't think he deserved to be tortured."

"Nobody does," Puffy said gently. "What they did to him was wrong, but what he did to you was also wrong. Trauma doesn't absolve someone of their crimes."

Tommy scrubbed a hand through his hair. "No, I-- I get that-- I do-- It's just-- he's suffered enough, hasn't he? He paid for what he did and now all I need to do is forgive him but my stupid fucking brain--"

"Tommy."

Tommy stilled.

Puffy's eyes softened. She set her clipboard down. "Tommy, forgiveness-- it doesn't work like that. Suffering isn't equivalent exchange. He hurt you. Someone else hurt him. Those two don't cancel each other out."

Tommy gnawed on the inside of his cheek. "But. . ."

"Think of it this way. Let's say, hmm, you know Foolish, right?" At Tommy's nod, she continued. "He's one of my closest friends, and I care a lot about him. Then let's say Bad killed Foolish."

Tommy blinked. "That-- what the fuck--"

"It's just an analogy," Puffy assured. "So let's say Bad killed Foolish. I'd be mad, wouldn't I?"

"I'd say a bit more than 'mad'," Tommy deadpanned.

"I. . . yeah, that's true, I'd be out for his blood. But then let's say. . . let's say someone else killed Skeppy because they were upset that Bad killed Foolish." Puffy grimaced. "You do know how Bad and Skeppy--"

"Yeah, yeah, they're like fuckin' best friends for life or some shit," Tommy muttered. "What's the point?"

"Well, if someone killed Skeppy as revenge for Bad killing Foolish, do you think I'd forgive Bad?"

"No?" Tommy scoffed. "That's-- those are two completely different thi. . .ngs. . . oh. Oh."

"Maybe Bad would feel sorry," Puffy said. "And maybe we'd be able to understand each other better - but just because he went through the same pain I did doesn't mean I'd forgive him."

"I get that," Tommy admitted. "I. . . I do. But-- ugh--"

Puffy waited patiently as he got his thoughts in order. At last Tommy huffed, twisting his hands together and falling back into the chair.

"I just. . . I feel like he's been hurt enough. He doesn't need more."

"But do you feel ready to forgive him?"

". . . No," Tommy whispered.

"And that's okay," Puffy said. "That's perfectly okay, Tommy. You don't have to forgive him."

"But if I don't forgive him, won't that just hurt him more?"

Puffy hummed. "How about this? Take him to someone who can help him recover. He's been hurt. Help him hurt less. You don't have to forgive him, but you can help him hurt less."

Tommy stared at her. ". . . You're right," he muttered. "You're-- yeah, no, I can-- I can do that."

Puffy frowned. "I'm not trying to pressure you to do anything. If you don't feel comfortable with the idea--"

"But I'd feel even shittier if I didn't do anything," Tommy told her. "It's. . . really, it's a good idea. Thank you."

Puffy studied him for a moment longer, then smiled. "I'm glad I could help. If you need something, just let me know."

"A nice, hot cup of mental stability would be nice."

Puffy barked out a surprise laugh. "I don't think it works like that, but I wish it did." She twirled her pen. "So, same time next week?"

Stepping out into the crisp winter air, Tommy tilted his head back and watched as his breath left his mouth in icy white puffs. The wind swept them northward, in the direction of Pandora' Vault.

He didn't have to forgive Dream. He wasn't planning to anytime soon. But he could help Dream recover. And to do that, he'd have to do one of two things - either stop Quackity, or break Dream out of his inescapable prison.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and buried a sardonic smile in his scarf.

Looks like he had his work cut out for him.

Loop Notes

116. Jump In The Cadillac, ver. TommyInnit.

117. The insanity spreads. Like a virus.

118. It's theorized that a modern truth potion could be created through the engineering of a fever of some kind, since sickness tends to leave people too addled to lie. Tommy's truth potion is essentially fever on crack.