Tommy finds himself stuck in a school with 19 other students, forced into a killing game by the mysterious mastermind. A new era of SMPronpa commences, giving DSMP-era MCYT fans a taste of that one forbidden fanfic.
CCs INCLUDED: Tommyinnit, Wilburs...
CW: Mention of suicidal ideation. Nothing explicit.
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Callahan frowned as he heard the familiar noises of pen scratching on paper in the room beside him. With a groan, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and leaned over the side of his bed, grasping a notepad he had laid there.
The notebook had nothing on it until he started writing. He found it in the library, which nobody liked to visit after Fundy's death. And he had stolen a black pen from the library too.
He propped it onto his knees and opened it to the third page before writing. He didn't know the date, since he couldn't find it anywhere in the building, so as always he just wrote the next number in line.
He looked through his list over and over again, but he could never really connect any dots. It was just weird- what was he writing? Who was he talking to?
Schlatt was odd. At first, he was pretty obnoxious, talking about how great he was at any opportunity. After Minx's death, he turned cold. Cold enough to out of the blue get Ranboo to kill somebody, openly admit it, and then just randomly stop doing anything and hide in his room. Plus, evidence showed that he poisoned Phil. Why did he do all of this, and then disappear randomly? Stop talking to people?
This made him write a list of his movements, what he did, theories. But he couldn't figure it out. Part of him hoped Tommy, the "Ultimate Detective" was doing the same. But so far, no-one had really used their Ultimate to their advantage. It was irritating.
Sighing, he shut the book and stared up at the ceiling, awaiting any further actions he could hear in the room next to him. He could go and ask what happened, but when the man is seemingly responsible for 4+ deaths, he was too anxious.
Well, he guessed he'd have to wait.
»»————-☠️————-««
Tommy slowly opened his eyes, waking from his sleep. Immediately, he noticed he was violently shivering, and that he was in the fetal position on the cold ground of his bathroom.
He groaned, getting up and brushing his hair that was messy and tangled from the shower he had earlier. Memories flooded back regarding earlier that day, and why he was on the bathroom floor. He didn't feel like he deserved to be sleeping on a comfortable bed.
He turned on the lights in the bathroom, wincing at the sudden change before glancing into the mirror. He looked fine, minus the slight eye bags caused by his previous tears. And... okay, maybe he didn't look too great. There were bloody scratches all over his face and neck that hurt to touch. From Tubbo.
