Children Raising Children - Anonymous (2024)

(What would have been in the tags)

Not Beta Read, featuring a veritable ton of conversations, ranging from idle chatter to discussing the ethics of mind control, Library propaganda, teeth cleaning propaganda, Tommy has adhd and that will be a minor plot point, Author doesn’t watch the source material so this is likely OOC, slowburn family dynamics, Characters swear but I will write no swear words,

(Summary)

We begin the story with Tommy, a vigilante, on his way to a meeting with some heroes. He stops by a garbage can to grab some cake he saw being thrown away. He then eats the old cake. (He isn’t upset about this, and we get the sense that dumpster diving is a common practice for him.)

At the meeting place, Tommy chats up the hero Blade(Techno) who awkwardly bears the social interaction til Daedalus(Philza) and Spectre(Wilbur) show up. Spectre antagonizes Tommy until Daedalus scolds him and reveals that they arranged the meeting to offer Tommy a chances to join the Heroes Commission. They would patrol together for about a month and at the end both parties would decide if Tommy was up for becoming an official hero.

Through the radio in his mask, Sting(Tubbo) instructs Tommy to take the heroes up on their offer.

(It will be established a little later that Sting takes care of Tommy (shelter, vigilante equipment, etc...) and Tommy stops crime and does the missions that Sting tells him to do. They have never met in person. Tommy doesn’t even know his real name… A fact that he gets mentally snippy about.)

After the meeting with the heroes, Sting sends Tommy off on a mission to a secret lab to grab some intel before the heroes do a raid.

Tommy sneaks into the lab as Sting instructs, and it feels similar enough to him that he has flashbacks. (Cue memories of Tommy’s early childhood where it is made obvious he was one of many experiments until the lab her grew up in was blown up. -Due to his invulnerability, he was the only survivor) Tommy gets the intel. Sting has to cut out in the middle of the mission and we establish that it’s not uncommon for Sting to unexpectedly leave Tommy unsupervised, even in life or death situations... Oooo mystery~

On his way out of the lab Tommy hears sounds of distress, he follows them and comes across a little girl with moth wings and antennae about to be operated on. Tommy drives away the scientists, and attempts to calm the kid down. He removes his mask to do so, and after he does, she rushes into his arms. He decides he can’t just leave her there.

Tommy gets the little girl home, and realizes just how unsafe his apartment is.

Because of his invulnerability, he will leave sharp things (like broken glass) on the floor since he doesn’t have to worry about being cut, and there is garbage everywhere. He takes care of the worst of it, though it’s still pretty bad.

When Sting comes back into communication, Tommy asks him what the heroes are going to do with the experiments they find in the lab. Sting says anything too dangerous will likely get destroyed, and everything else will probably get cataloged and stowed. Tommy presses further, asking what happens to living experiments, to which Sting admits it depends on what it is and he doesn’t exactly know.

Worried for the girl he found, Tommy informs Sting that “I found one of the experiments when I left, I’m keeping her. She’s a moth.” After Sting clarifies that she’s not dangerous, he’s like “whatever, man.” Alas, due to poor wording, Sting thinks the girl Tommy has taken is an actual moth. (This will be a running theme because it is both plot relevant and something that I find hilarious)

While getting things ready for her, Tommy finds out that the girl doesn’t have a name, just a serial number. He still works as a vigilante so as he heads out to patrol the city, he gets to brainstorming on what to call her.

Out on patrol Tommy comes across Void Walker (Ranboo). He initially thinks Ranboo is a citizen trying to jump off a building, but when he realizes he’s just enjoying the night air, he strikes up a conversation.

This chapter would be from Ranboo’s perspective so we’d get to hear his inner monologue, realize that (1) he works for Dream, (2) something is wrong with his emotions, and (3) Dream is the reason something is wrong with his emotions. (Like, Ranboo will think the equivalent of “man, I would be really scared right now if I could feel fear, but I can’t... so whatever)

Red Riot (Tommy) asks Ranboo for good names for girls. Ranboo suggests ‘Allium.’ Through the course of the conversation, Ranboo starts to feel things… like amusem*nt as Red Riot makes him laugh. Concerned, because he shouldn’t be feeling anything, Ranboo quickly leaves with little explanation.

Back with Tommy, he’s a bit confused by the abrupt departure, but shrugs it off.

Tommy returns to the girl, and let’s her know the names he’s thought of. ‘Allium’ from Void Walker, ‘Clementine’ for the fruits he he got from his neighbor, and ‘Slagathor, destroyer of worlds’ which Sting had sarcastically suggested earlier.

(At this point I would have asked people to vote on what name they would like best... I even had a plan if people picked Slagathor. For the purposes of this summary I shall choose the name Clementine)

After trying the small fruit for the first time, the girl shyly says that she would like the name ‘Clementine.”

Tommy takes care of Clementine during the day, and leaves her alone in the apartment at night when he goes out on patrol. Clementine doesn’t complain but is scared of the dark. She does her best to hide under the blankets while Tommy is gone. Tommy slowly starts cleaning the apartment more and getting Clementine stuff that she needs from one of the local charities.

A week after his initial meeting with the heroes Tommy starts going out on the scheduled patrols. It starts small with the some pretty calm nights and the stopping of muggings/ect. Tommy gets to see the heroes in action, and they explain what being part of the heroes commission would entail. (Like… you have access to healers and mental health clinics, but you have to reveal your identity to some people and you can’t break the law… stuff like that)

At home Clementine still can’t get to sleep and it’s bad enough that one of the neighbors in the apartment hears her crying. This is the start of the ‘it takes a village to raise a child’ thing that the story will have going on alongside everything else. After confronting Tommy, and seeing how hard he’s trying, the neighbor gives him some pointers and a night light for Clementine (Which she absolutely loves, because she’s a moth. Heehee)

Back on the patrol side of things, we start to get more personal info on the heroes. They initially always meet in pairs of two, alternating between Blade and Daedalus, and Blade and Spectre. As it turns out, Blade isn’t a hero at all, he’s just so well known, people erroneously think he’s one. He’s a vigilante with no intention of ever joining the heroes commission and he’s too strong for them to do anything about it. He hangs out with the Daedalus because he is good friends with him, and invites himself along to the patrols so that Tommy all the info to make an informed decision on the Heroes Commission (not just the good parts)

Tommy slowly moves on to have more positive interactions with Spectre to the point he only mildly dislikes the guy. Tommy has purely positive interactions with Daedalus, though the hero tries to keep him at an arms length. Also through their patrols, Tommy tells the group about Clementine because he can’t help but gush about her (through poor wording, they also think that Clementine is an actual moth that Tommy is just weirdly obsessed with.)

After this we have a chapter that cuts away to Tubbo.

In this chapter, Surprise! We learn that Tubbo is the son of Schlatt, a powerful head of the organized crime in the city, mob/mafia style- and Tubbo is intent on taking him down. When he was younger, Tubbo as an aspiring hacker wanted to impress his father with his computer know-how, in his enthusiasm he snooped around his dad’s stuff and discovered some of Schlatt’s criminal activity.

Confused by what he found, Tubbo began to look into it further, becoming horrified the more he saw. He ended up trying to figure out how to stop his father by initially gathering intel, and eventually finding a vigilante (Tommy) to help him do the ground work he couldn’t.

Tubbo pretends to be a shut-in gamer to explain why he’s always in his room at his computer. He’s gathered quite a lot of damning evidence, and is hoping to use Tommy’s opportunity with the heroes to organize a take down. Part of the reason he will leave Tommy in the middle of missions is to show up when called by Schlatt, so as not to seem suspicious. He’s getting nervous though because Schlatt is getting less careful about hiding his criminal activities around the house, and if Tubbo see’s something that he shouldn’t, his plausible deniability is gone. Another note: Schlatt is disappointed in Tubbo ‘not doing anything with his life’ and while Tubbo is undeniably against his father, there is a very small part of him that still wishes he could make him proud.

Back with Tommy, we do more cuts back and forth between life with Clementine and patrol with the heroes.

On the Clem side of things, Tommy takes her outside, gets her things to play with, and feeds her. We further establish that Clementine is a fearful kid, and begin the work of teaching her to ‘be brave.’ (At this time, I hoped I would have described it well enough that readers would be able to see that Tommy is addressing things he knows are important “i.e. Food, boredom, and introducing a kid whose grown up in a lab to the outside world” but is missing some other very important things “i.e. hygiene, socialization, education, ect...”)

At some point he will take her to the library where they meet Kristin. Kristin is a librarian, and Clementine absolutely adores her. Clem can’t read, and Tommy can read but it’s obvious he has some difficulty with it. (Important note: Kristin has never met Philza at this point, and technically won’t for the duration of the story…. I know, I know. Practically heresay)

On the hero side of things, we get a mission that introduces us to Dream. He’s mysterious, and a maverick, that no one knows the powers of. He’s very skilled and seems like a nice guy, that Tommy is a little wary at first, until decides that he likes him. Sting doesn’t like him and his mind remains unchanged.

Also on this mission, we learn that one of Spectre’s powers is possession (in line with his ghost powers like flying, and phasing through stuff) but he can’t use it because Mind Control powers are currently illegal. (This may seem random, but it will be very relevant to Dream’s character)

Ranboo makes an appearance at the end of the chapter to teleport Dream away to remind the reader that he exists.

The hero Daedalus begins to suspect that Clementine is an actual person and not a moth, because Tommy will ask questions that would only really crop up if you were raising a child. He thinks that Tommy is a father and an adult. Blade, on the other hand, is convinced that Tommy is a legal minor based on his immaturity and other observations. He is convinced Clemetine is still a moth because he’s gauged that Tommy is too young to have a kid. (Both right, both wrong)

Spectre hasn’t thought much about any of that. He just likes hanging out with the vigilante. Tommy has come to the point that he really admires Spectre now and looks up to him in a big brother way. (Spectre is too obviously flawed for Tommy to idolize him the same way he does Daedalus.)

One night while hunting for food in the trash, Tommy meets a fellow dumpster diver. They chat a bit when Tommy mentions he’s trying to get a pizza with some vegetables on it cause he hears those are important for children. The guys he’s talking to becomes shocked and concerned, like “Dude! We gotta get you more food than just pizza if you’re feeding a kid!” Tommy receives some fruit and grocery money from the fellow dumpster diver and he realizes that maybe he isn’t quite as good at raising a kid as he originally thought.

Tommy asks Sting about things people need for a balanced meal, and Sting has a realization of just how not-okay Tommy is at taking care of himself. Like “you at least brush your teeth, right?” …. “Right??” When Tommy answers “no” Sting freaks out, cause Tommy is indestructible to physical forces, but can still be damaged by chemical/heat stuff, ergo… He’s still at risk for cativities and tooth problems, buuuuut if Tommy ever needs a tooth pulled, they encounter the huge problem that none of the standard surgical equipment will be able to cut it out.

Tommy gets a dental appointment that eventually leads to an intensive cleaning and braces. (Though, don’t worry, no tooth pain will pop up later besides the soreness that comes with braces, lol)

On one of the visits Tommy and Clementine take to the library, Clem tries to set up Tommy and Kristin because she would really like Kristin to be her mom. Kristin is flattered but declines to date Tommy for obvious reasons.

While hanging out with Spectre, Tommy and the hero come across someone who has an intense stare down with the Spectre before leaving. Tommy is a little incensed by the obvious disrespect, but Spectre tells him to leave it be, in an uncharacteristically somber way. (The stranger has fox ears, so reader’s can pick up that it’s Fundy. Wilbur’s relationship with his will come up later)

During one of the his solo missions, Tommy gets poisoned. He makes it home to Clementine, but is too weak to make an antidote, so he passes off his communicator to Clementine so Sting can instruct her on what to do. She’s able to cure Tommy, and now Sting is aware that Clem is a girl, not an insect. You can be sure that he is baffled and mad with Tommy, but more so at himself for not realizing sooner

Cut away chapter for a (Daedalus) Philza flashback. It focuses on when he met his wife, her subsequent death and how that has effected Philza and his parenting style for (Spectre) Wilbur. We get the insight that Philza is emotionally unengaged, and he knows that’s a bad thing, so he’s very lenient with Wilbur because he is too tired to parent, but also, out of guilt he feels like he had no right to discipline his son.

Back to the present, Tommy is becoming increasingly drained trying to keep up with taking care of Clem, and doing patrols with the heroes, while still running missions for Sting. He eventually has a breakdown while patrolling with Daedalus, who comforts him and sends him home to rest. (It’s not directly stated, but this is the small start of Philza healing emotionally. He’s sees a lot of his struggle as a single parent in Tommy. While there are people Philza cares about, he’s somewhat dissociated from his emotions. This is a moment where he chooses to care... Philza will end the story better than he was before, though still needing a lot of work done to be fully okay)

There’s at least one more normal mission with Dream so we can see him as a hero before things change down the line. We see he can be kind, and he is well regarded. (Dream finds out about Clementine here and -drum roll please!- Like everyone else, thinks that Tommy is talking about an actual moth…... I swear it’s plot relevant guys!)

Afterward, there is an interaction with Dream and Tommy, where Tommy tells Dream about his powers. Afterward, Sting is furious with Tommy, asking why he would do that. Tommy initially thinks he did it because he wanted to, but after thinking about it, he realizes something doesn’t feel right. Sting thinks that Dream has some kind of mental manipulation power and that he compelled Tommy. Tommy’s opinion of Dream sours after this.

Seeing how worn down Tommy is, Sting suggests putting Clementine in school during the day. Tommy is resistant at first, but considers it after Sting points out how it would allow Tommy to sleep during the hours shes gone, and help Clementine with learning reading/math and allow her to meet other kids. He After discussing it with the heroes while on patrol, Tommy decides to go for it.

Tommy is also at a good enough relationship with Spectre that he asks him to watch over Clementine if something should ever happen to him. Spectre, who thinks this is all for a moth is like “this is ridiculous, but sure.” Tommy makes a list of numbers for Clementine to call if there is ever an emergency.

(Insert Ranboo and Dream interaction here: Dream contemplates letting Ranboo ‘go’ and we find out that Ranboo is under a mind control power by Dream, and has been for the last like, 4 years. He decides against it, and Ranboo’s state remains unchanged. Either before this or during this chapter, we learn that Ranboo and Dream used to work together. Ranboo’s teleportation was very powerful, but he would get too nervous to be able to use it. Dream would use his mind manipulation powers to calm Ranboo enough that he could control his powers. When the city made mind control powers illegal, Ranboo wanted to stop, but Dream took full control in a panic, and then, when he realized just how badly he messed up, he kept Ranboo under instead of fixing his mistakes)

On to school, Sting forges the documents and Clem is enrolled. She is incredibly nervous about it, but ultimately falls in love with learning, and starts to makes some friends. If anything, Tommy is taking it the worst out of everyone as he’s super on edge about it, ready to beat up any bullies that would dare hurt Clementine and getting a smidge jealous of the teachers. It’s ultimately good for Tommy as Sting forces him to rest and he gets a better “work/life” balance.

Back with the heroes… Spectre gets captured by Schlatt. Daedalus is trying to find him, but looking in the wrong place. Sting meanwhile knows exactly where he is. Spectre is being held at Schlatt’s personal mansion, AKA where Tubbo (Sting) is. Tubbo organizes Tommy and Blade to stage a rescue. Blade causes a distraction while Tommy sneaks in. Because one of the keycards to unlock Spectre is in Schlatt’s personal room, Tubbo gets it himself, and then meets up with Tommy to pass it off.

Tommy suspects that Tubbo and Sting are the same person, but because Sting uses a voice changer, he’s not completely sure. Tommy rescues Spectre, who has been drugged up during this whole ordeal, and they get him to safety. Daedalus is very grateful and relieved.

Back to our regularly scheduled patrols and moth-y slice of life

Clementine is doing well in school, she’s beginning to learn how to sound out words and has started to get a more vocal personality, telling Tommy what she likes and reiterating things she’s learned.

One the next patrol Tommy and the heroes go on, they come across a villain whose power makes who ever it effects blurt out truths about themselves. Daedalus, Blade and Tommy all get hit and scatter. Tommy hides in an ally until the compulsion wears off. When he goes back he comes across Spectre who’s been freshly hit by the villain. Spectre stops Tommy from leaving because he wants to confess something, revealing that he has a son that he abandoned along with his mother when he was conceived, and right when Spectre was coming around to trying to be apart of his life, his son and his sons mother went missing. Only his son came back, and he had aged faster than normal. To the point of being an adult now. Spectre wishes he could be a part of his sons life, but thinks it’s not something that will ever happen. After confessing all of this, they regroup with the others and the villian is defeated. (I wasn’t planning for the relationship between Fundy and Wilbur to come up again in this story. There may have been more development afterword, but for now, this relationship will remain unresolved)

Surprise Dream chapter! Dream meets with Schlatt, and Schlatt reveals that he’s figured out that Ranboo is a missing kid from years ago, and while he doesn’t have enough intel to prove why Ranboo is with Dream, he’s guessed enough to know that Dream would be ruined if anyone found out… “Wouldn’t it be a shame if someone tipped off the Heroes Commission as to the kid’s whereabouts?”

Schlatt blackmails Dream, and wants him to take out Red Riot (Tommy), because he’s been a particular thorn in Schlatt’s side. Dream agrees to help Schlatt.

There would put one or two more chapters with Tommy doing patrol/raising Clementine as we get to the end of the trail period with the Heroes, and both groups will decide soon if Tommy can be offered to become an official hero with the Comission. At the end of one of these chapters; however, Schlatt comes into Tubbo’s room with evidence that Tubbo had gone into Schlatts private room on the same day that Spectre had been broken out of the mansion... Be worried guys. Tubbos been caught.

Tommy doesn’t realize that anything is amiss when he doesn’t hear from Sting, because it’s only been about a day. He’s stopped by Dream while out on patrol, who requests his help with something. Tommy declines because he has to get back home to Clementine.

Dream keeps asking, but Tommy keeps telling him ‘no.’ Eventually Tommy gets home, but feels like something is wrong, so he hides Clementine before Dream pops in still asking for Tommy to come with him. (Dudes getting desperate, and is in panic mode right now) Tommy is thoroughly weirded out by this and demands that Dream leave.

When he doesn’t, they fight. Dream notices a stuffed animal moth that Tommy made for Clementine and thinks that it’s the moth that Tommy’s always going on about. Tommy doesn’t care to correct him. During the fight, Tommy ends up breaking Dreams mask. Tommy and Tubbo had theorized that the mask was a power amplifier so Tommy mocks that Dream has no access to his mind manipulation powers now. Dream reveals the mask was actually a suppressor and when he makes direct eye contact, Tommy falls under his control.

Dream leaves, taking Tommy with him, unaware that Clementine had been there the entire time.

Clementine, very distressed, but determined, is able to contact Spectre. Blade comes to pick her up, and when he gets her name/sees that she’s a moth, he puts two and two together. Clementine = Little Girl. “Tommy is missing” = Red Riot is missing.

Tubbo is not having a great time right now. He’s been able to convince Schlatt that he had been asked by the heroes for help in getting a keycard, but had no idea what it was for. Schlatt normally executes traitors, but since Tubbo ‘didn’t know any better’ and is his son, he’ll make an exception. Tubbo still needs to be punished; however, and Schlatt’s planning a demonstration.

Tommy’s not having a great time right now, but it’s also not the worst. Dream has no idea what to do with him, and is trying to figure out how to make him disappear without actually killing him. He’s mainly been keeping Tommy under control and telling him to watch TV, but Tommy gets easily bored and keeps forgetting what he’s been ordered to do. He keeps getting up to ‘check on Clementine’ and Dream gets fed up enough to ask Punz to pick up ‘Clementine’ who he still thinks is a plushie.

Over with the heroes, Clementine is staying with Spectre and Daedalus (Now to be known for the rest of the summary as Wilbur and Philza) as they try to figure out what to do. They are certain Dream is the one who took Tommy based on Clementine’s description, but they don’t know why, or where he is. Clementine is distraught, so Techno goes back to the apartment to find her nightlight and her stuffed animal to help calm her down.

While at the apartment, Punz shows up, and then fights Techno over the moth plushie. (They are both very confused why the other would want it) Punz ends up being able to grab it and run away by using some trickery.

Punz makes it back to Dream, obviously roughed up from his fight, and Dream realizes something’s amiss. He goes to Tommy, and Tommy, in his impaired state of mind, explains that Clementine is actually a little girl with instructions to contact Spectre should anything go wrong. Dream freaks out, because this means that the heroes are looking for Tommy right now.

A recording is dropped off with the heroes. It’s Tommy dressed as Red Riot telling the heroes that he’s decided that he can’t do patrol or even vigilante work anymore, that he’s leaving the city, and to please not try to contact him. Techno, Wilbur and Philza aren’t buying it for a minute. They try to contact Sting, but get no response (cause Tubbo is a little indisposed at the moment) and keep a watch out for where Dream, so they can make their move.

Dream meanwhile has decided to do what he did with Ranboo, and keep Tommy as another helper/assistant. He gives him a new costume and the name ‘Haze.’

Schlatt invites Dream and company to a dinner he’s hosting, where the main feature is making an example of Tubbo. While he won’t kill his son, he will have him beat within an inch of his life in front of Schlatt’s underlings as a warning. At the dinner, Schlatt wants Dream to do the honor of beating up Tubbo (further showing his power at bossing around a top hero) Dream hands the responsibility over to Tommy.

Tommy for his part, can’t outright shake Dreams control, but is able to resist enough that he only lands glancing blows on Tubbo. Schlatt plays it cool, like scaring Tubbo was his plan all along, but afterward, pulls Dream aside, furious.

Dream redoubles his power over Tommy, but by going for absolute control in one area, he doesn’t pay attention to Ranboo, who falls out of his control.

Ranboo is scared and confused over where he is. His memory is fragmented, and he wanders around Schlatt mansion very confused. Luckily, Tubbo is the one who comes across him first.

Tubbo hides Ranboo in his room, which has been stripped of all it’s belongings, because Schlatt was going to have Tubbo “earn his way up” and “make something of himself.” He asks for Ranboo’s help, getting some of his stuff back, because it has some crucial information on it that Tubbo hasn’t been able to save to his offsite backups yet. Once Ranboo has it, he needs to get it to the heroes.

Ranboo is willing, but concerned about Tubbo. Tubbo tells Ranboo to leave him there as he doesn’t want to alert Schlatt to anything. Giving Ranboo the location of one of Schlatt’s dumping grounds (the one most likely to have Tubbo’s stuff), Tubbo sends him off.

Wilbur comes across Dream and his new apprentice, and tries to threaten Dream into telling them where Tommy is. Dream plays dumb but also taunts Wilbur for how powerless he is. In a rage, Wilbur tries to possess Dream, but Dream evades him, and when he has Haze record the interaction, Wilbur backs off.

When Wilbur comes home, feeling defeated, Clementine hugs him, and tells the others about how strong Tommy was when he was taking care of her. She’s still scared, but believes that things will be okay. (Clem is going to be our emotional support moth for the time being)

Back with Ranboo, he’s made it to the place Tubbo told him to go to. (His anxiety no longer hampers him from teleporting, and it’s tho*rized that because Ranboo was using his powers for years under Dream, they’ve become like muscle memory to him) It’s a dumping ground for a bunch of Schlatt’s stuff (failed experiments, weapons, bodies, etc) that will eventually get incinerated.

Ranboo wanders around, trying to remember what Tubbo told him to look for, when he feels like he’s being watched. Ranboo teleports and he stumbles across the thing that was watching him… a little boy with tusks and half of his face missing. This is Michael. Michael can’t speak, but we are able to glean that he was an experiment that was dumped here after he had died. One of Michael’s powers is healing, so while he was dead, his power brought him back. He’s been living here ever since using a dwindling supply of expired army rations for food.

Ranboo is able to makes friends with Michael who is able to show Ranboo where Tubbo’s stuff was dumped. Huzzah! Ranboo finds what he’s looking for, and leaves but not before taking Michael with him, vowing to take care of the boy.

Making it back into the city, they stop for food. Ranboo has a habit of spacing out, so it’s good that Michael is there to tug on his arm and bring him back to reality. While on the way to the Heroes headquarters, Ranboo sees Wilbur and Techno on one of the rooftops doing there hero patrol, and flags them down. They recognize him as Dreams apprentice and immediately apprehend him.

Michael freaks out, trying protect Ranboo, while Ranboo desperately explains that he needs their help because Tubbo’s in trouble. Wilbur doesn’t believe him, but Techno does so, they take him (and Michael) back to headquarters to figure things out.

Because they don’t want to alert Dream that they’ve taken Ranboo into custody, they sneak him in and grill him as to what’s going on. It quickly becomes clear to them that Ranboo’s memory isn’t in great shape right now, which further confirms their suspicions about Dream.

Ranboo explains that Tubbos in trouble and he has information that can take down Schlatt. (Ranboo has forgotten that he needs to get Tubbo’s info to the heroes, he just remembers that he needs to talk to them and save Tubbo.)

On the side, Clementine sneaks in to see what the grown ups are doing, and she meets Michael. It initially doesn’t go well because of Michael’s skull face, but they warm up to each other and become friendly.

Philza and Wilbur’s hands are tied because without probable cause, they can’t break into Schlatt’s residence without serious repercussions. Ranboo, with his fried-waffle brain, is like ‘oh no! If only we had that damning evidence against Schlatt Tubbo had told me about!’

They eventually decide to have Ranboo go in with Techno to break out Tubbo. If things go south, Philza and Wilbur will “just so happen to be nearby” to respond to a distress call by Techno “without any knowledge of what he’s doing.” (There is definitely some hesitation of having Ranboo involved at all, but his teleportation will make him invaluable, he’s really concerned over saving Tubbo, and plot wise... I need him there for the story, so yeah)

Techno and Ranboo break in, and are able to find Tubbo, whose like,

Tubbo “did you get the thing to the heroes?”

Ranboo “Thing? What thing?”

Tubbo (distressed) “my thing with all the information on it? it’s like a flash drive??”

Ranboo (suddenly remembering) “Oh! you mean this flash drive?”

Techno Gibbs slaps Ranboo.

The group of three is on their way out when suddenly Ranboo get’s hit with a dart and is knocked out. Techno immediately calls for back up, meanwhile doing his best to carry Ranboo and protect Tubbo. Schlatt emerges from the shadows saying that he “had been asked to look out for Dream’s little sidekick” but wasn’t expecting Techno.

Cue sick battle with Techno holding off Schlatt’s goons and Schlatt himself, just barely able to keep up with all the enemies around him, until Philza and Wilbur show up to save the day!Some other heroes (Sam and co) show up, cause Tubbo called them during the chaos. He gets Schlatt arrested and hands over his evidence. It is now when Schlatt realizes that Tubbo has been purposefully and steadily working against him for years now.

Dream hears about what has happened to Schlatt and starts panicking. It’s only so long before hes next on the chopping block. We end the chapter with Dream grabbing Tommy’s face and telling him to “listen closely” though we don’t get to hear what Dream tells him.

We’d then have one breathing-room chapter as our heroes make a plan to save Tommy, but we also get a quiet moment with Tubbo as he’s somewhat shellshocked that he’s finally locked away Schlatt. The moment also connects with Tubbo meeting Clementine in person for the first time as well as meeting Michael.

The group tracks down Dream and stages a rescue. They barge in on the middle of Dream packing/getting ready to get out of town. They fight Dream, and his new apprentice Haze, who they figure out halfway through is actually Tommy. They begin pleading with Tommy to come to his senses, meanwhile pushing Dream to the back foot. Wilbur seems to be getting through to Tommy.

Just when Techno is about to take down Dream, Dream shouts “Now!” and Tommy sets off the alarms/ sprinklers. The confusion allows Dream to escape but he leaves Tommy behind. Without Dream and the chaos of fighting, it seems like Wilbur is able to talk Tommy further and further down until he comes back to his senses. Tommy is confused about where he is and what’s going on, but is so happy to see Wilbur and Techno. They take him back to the hero headquarters.

There is a big reunion! Clem rushes into Tommy’s arms, crying. Tommy and Tubbo get to officially meet, there is a lot of happiness and hugs. At the end of the chapter, we follow Tommy into his guest room. Now that he’s all alone he realizes that there’s something that he needs to do. Pulling out a hidden communicator he calls a contact and who should appear on the screen? It’s Dream.

It was all a ruse. Tommy is still under Dream’s control.

(I was planning on having the chapter count be something like 52/53, but then after posting this chapter that was supposed to be the ‘final’ chapter, to jump up the count up to 53/57… just to be a little devious)

We find out that Dream is planning on killing whoever knew he was evolved with Schlatt. He has instructed Tommy to blow up the hero’s headquarter once a certain list of people are all in the same space. So we have these sweet domestic scenes, undercut by this disturbing tension, because every time Tommy asks “is Philza back yet?” the reader knows Tommy is just waiting to enact Dreams plan. Some of the other characters also feel like something is off with Tommy.

Dream meanwhile has tracked down Techno to get him out of the way himself. He has a certain respect for the vigilante so he’s planning on just erasing his memory instead of killing him like he is with the others. Dream catches Techno unawares and pins him down. When he goes to put him under his control, Techno stubbornly refuses to open his eyes. He gets Dream talking, and while he’s monologuing, Techno is able to piece together that Tommy is still under Dreams influence. Techno is able to get himself free of Dream and send a warning message to the others. He also sends a message asking Ranboo to bring him something, because he’s the one who can get it to him the fastest. Ranboo is nervous but agrees.

When Wilbur tries to apprehend Tommy, Tommy becomes hostile. They fight though it gets tricky because when he’s losing too bad, Tommy will by threaten his own life to make Wilbur back off. (Tubbo works to disarm the bomb that Tommy made, while Philza evacuates people.)

Ranboo teleports over to Blades location with what he asked for. Techno evades Dream until he gets an opportunity to use his secret weapon…. and it's pepper spray. He pepper sprays Dream in the face, making him unable to use his power.

Ranboo comes closer now that Dream is apprehended. Dream begs him to let him go, but Ranboo refuses.

The standoff with Tommy is desperate and tense, until Clementine comes in and Tommy’s concern for her distracts him enough for Wilbur to possess him. With Wilbur taking up residence in his head, if pushes out Dreams influence, and Tommy is able to think clearly. He’s distraught about what Dream almost made him do. Clementine and Wilbur, (using one of Tommy’s own arms), hug Tommy, and they tell him that everything is going to be okay now.

Insert a chapter here for the characters to process what just happened.

Now with things actually resolved we have our proper resolution. The group double checks what Tommy actually remember after being ‘rescued’ the first time, and re-do their cathartic celebration. (Tubbo jokingly asks how many time they’re gonna have to meet each other for the first time) It’s very sweet. Ranboo and Tommy have bonding moment. At Wilbur’s prompting, Philza offers the kids (Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo, Clementine, and Michael) a place to stay with them which is accepted. Happy times are had by all. The End

Epilogue/ one shot after... Clementine convinces the group to set up Philza on a date with Kristin. Phil would be all “Oh, I couldn’t possibly. What would Wilbur think?” Meanwhile Wilbur is like “Dad, I am begging you to please go on a date.” Hyjinks would then ensue. Followed by a successful date.

(End)

Now for the actual bits of writing!

(The rooftop meeting with the heroes. Longest chunk of writing that I have)

Tommy looks down at the communicator and sees that Sting still isn’t back yet. He shifts uncomfortably at that knowledge, and glances up.

Blade continues ignoring him in favor of cleaning his equipment.

Tommyinnit has a problem with sitting still. Blah blah blah- something about idle hands.

He’s not saying he can’t control himself, but... maybe the silence is super uncomfortable, and it’s possible the lack of anything to do while waiting on a rooftop is driving him crazy, and perhaps the blood the hero is cleaning from his sword is lending to his nervousness; therefore, because he’s not being otherwise distracted, he’s falling back on impulse... Really, if he makes any bad decisions tonight, it’s because Blade has failed to properly engage him.

Tommy discretely holds his communicator in his hands like he had forgotten to put it away, red recording light strategically hidden underneath the finger of his glove.

“What’s the worst word you know?”

Blade looks up from his blade.

“Uhhh… Why?”

“I think it’s an interesting question. Answer could tell you a lot about a person.”

The empty eye sockets of the boar skull stare at him for a moment.

“I guess… genocide?”

“Ugh. I didn’t mean it that way.” Tommy balks. “Way to bring down the mood.”

“You’re the one who asked?” Blade halfheartedly shrugs. He sounds baffled.

“Yeah, well there was implication. A direction you were meant to go that would build our relationship as we share forbidden words... It was obvious!”

“Was it obvious, though?”

“Of course! So, now that we’re on the same page...” Tommy skooches a bit closer, one hand roguishly propped on his chin, “...what’s the worst word you know?”

A beleaguered sigh escapes the bloodied hero.

“I’m not gonna answer that.”

“Oh, come on. Answer it. Answer it!” Tommy insists, following the hero who has suddenly found the other side of the roof a better place to be.

“You need better questions to ask people.”

“It’s a perfectly good question!”

…

“You’re really not going to say?”

“Nope.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

...

…

“Do you want to know the worst word I know?”

“Not really.”

“Well, for your information it’s-”

“-Oh, look! Daedalus is here.” Blade cuts him off.

Tommy follows Blade’s sight line to the sky.

It’s true.

Daedalus is really far away... a tiny speck on the horizon surrounded by a telltale haze of the crows, but technically you could argue that he had arrived.

Tommy snapped his head back to the hero.

“Don’t try and weasel your way out of this! We’re still talking!”

“What gives you the impression I’m trying to get out of this riveting conversation?” Blade asked, walking to the roof’s edge and hopping to the next building over. Huffing, Tommy followed suit, jumping after the billowing cape.

When Tommy makes it to the other roof, the sound of harsh caws can already be heard. Daedalus had moved from being a tiny dot to a rapidly approaching shadow.

His ability to move so fast across the city was one of the reasons he was a top rated hero. Being able to get to the scene of the crime while the criminals were still there was a huge advantage.

Dark wings, longer than Tommy is tall, stretch out to glide as the hero approaches. Daedalus is wearing goggles, but his face is otherwise uncovered. He’s one of the few heroes to not wear a mask, a fact that Tommy really envies when he’s sweating up a storm in his own-- It makes sense, though. It’s hard to have a secret identity with giant wings on your back, why bother?

Tommy suddenly remembers his burning question.

“Daedalus! What’s the worst word you know?!” He yells.

Daedalus lands with a final flap of his powerful wings, the crows accompanying him settling around the rooftop.

“Paperwork!”

Tommy’s face scrunches in disappointment under his mask.

“Both your answers suck!”

Daedalus rises with a shrug, chuckling lightly, the crows cackle alongside him until he calls for their quite. “It’s the first thing that came to mind.”

Tommy is fully prepared to continue complaining about the stupid and frankly disappointing answers he’s been given, but something else interrupts.

“Oh! Let me give a try.” A voice that belongs to neither Blade nor Daedalus echoes from behind him. Something about it just sounds wrong and it immediately raises Tommy’s hackles.

Tommy whirls around, but there’s no one there. He twists this way and that, trying to spot a glimpse of the mysterious voice. He turns back to Blade and Daedalus who are both unbothered by the unknown fourth who’s snuck into their meeting.

“What-”

A presence forms at his back, almost like it had already been there and was just now solidifying. It curls around his neck to the side of his head, and a voice-- breathy and wet --exhales a low word that settles like cold condensation against his ear despite the fabric in-between.

“Mooooiiiist.”

Tommy’s hair stands on end and he jumps away with a shriek.

When he gains enough composure to snap back around, he sees the cause of his terror. A laughing figure clutches their stomach, curling in on themselves as their feet float off the ground. Their entire body is tinged blue, and covered face to toe in a black body suit, though curly hair flies free and a cozy looking sweater covers his torso.

Spectre. Hot-shot, heart-throb, ghost-type.

Tommy thought it was only going to be two people that were coming tonight. The crows join Spectre in the mocking laughter, even as Daedalus tries to quiet them. Blade does nothing but watch indifferently.

With a snarl, Tommy jumps at the hero with the intent to hurt him… but he finds his hands moving entirely through the arm he intended to grab. He slams palms first into the ground.

He whirls around and growls. “This meeting is invite only! No ghosts allowed!”

“Ah, ah!” Specre lilted coyly, tisking his finger. “You’ll find I’m the one your supposed to be meeting with Daedalus tonight. Blade’s the one who’s crashing the party.”

The vigilante snaps his head to the other two, daring them to give merit to the claim.

Blade shrugs.

“ ’Fraid it’s true, mate.” Daedalus says, waving the crows away.

“Yeah.” Spectre floats smugly. “So be nice to me or I might not think you’re a good candidate for the Hero Commission.”

Tommy gasps, light enough not to be heard. So, that is why he’s here.

Sting’s guess had been right. They wanted to recruit him.

The heroes wanted to recruit him

Even though Tommy is giddy, the feeling is squashed under a sense of retaliatory spite. Regaining his composure, he scoffs and folds his arms, angling his head high.

“Like I wanna kiss up to some self important prick.”

“Oh ho?” Spectre tilts his head like a cat. “Are you even capable? It would require tact.”

“Meemeemee, tact~. Were you born with the entitlement, or are you just compensating for something?”

“Ooh, scathing.”

Tommy would spit at the hero if he didn’t have a mask on.

“Your mom is scathing.”

“I’d be offended, if it wasn’t painfully obvious women don’t to talk to you.”

Tommy splutters. “Women talk to me! Loads of women talk to me! You’d be jealous if you knew how many women talked to me.”

“Sure, I’m sure they find your witty repartee just irresistible!”

“For your information they do!”

Tommy blows a raspberry for good measure, though he immediately regrets it as the mask caught the moisture.

Spectre snorts. He grabs Tommy’s wrist and pulls it to the side, almost as if he’s opening the young vigilante up. Ghostly eyes, nearly the same color as the surrounding white, flit up and down his body. Tommy can’t help his breath from stopping as he awaits Spectre’s judgment.

“Scrappy.” Spectre declares.

Tommy, who would have proudly claimed the description of ‘scrappy’ up until this point, swears and tries to kick the hero. Spectre turns intangible, letting go of Tommy’s arm. Never breaking eye contact, he floats with his hands tucked behind his back while Tommy seethes impotently.

“Daedalus, so far I’m not impressed.” Spectre draws a thumb across his neck sharply. “Let’s nix him from the list.”

Daedalus sighs and steps between the two of them.

“Alright, that’s enough.” When Tommy and Spectre make noise to protest, massive inky wings raise imposingly. “Enough. Spectre, stop antagonizing him. You know better.”

Spectre sniffs and crosses his arms. Daedalus turns back to Tommy, removing the goggles covering his eyes.

“Sorry about that, mate. We didn’t come here to antagonize you. Quite the opposite. We were intending on talking with you about joining the Heroes Commission.”

“Bang up job so far.” Tommy scoffs.

“Right... Well,” Daedalus clears his throat and plows through the awkward tension, “As I’m sure you’re aware… vigilante work is illegal.”

Tommy nods awkwardly.

“However, the Commission recognizes the stupidity of trying to stop someone who’s doing genuine good.”

“They do?” Spectre asks.

Daedalus raises his wings to block Spectre from view.

“We have a program that allows qualifying vigilantes to become official heroes. How it works, is over the next month we would go on patrols in the city together. Neutral ground so to say. During that time you’d get a sense for how we operate. We’ll tell you about our organization, it’s rules and benefits and you can use that time to ask questions.” He holds up a finger. “Conversely, we will use this time to get to know you. During our month together, we will determine whether you would be a good fit for the Commission. If so, they will offer you an invitation.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. You’d have to play by the Commission’s rules, but you’d have access to all their resources, and legal protections.”

It seems very simple. Mentally, Tommy hears Sting’s voice reminding him that that every good thing comes with strings.

“And if I said no?”

Daedalus doesn’t seem fazed by the question, tilting his head and lifting one shoulder in a half shrug.

“You’d continue to be considered a criminal. Heroes would not be actively pursuing you because right now you’re a mild threat. But let’s say they found you wounded or passed out somewhere… Then you’d be taken in and incarcerated.”

Tommy feels horror flood through him.

“You’d set me on fire?!”

“What?”

“What kind of monsters are you?!”

Blade moves Daedalus’s wing out of the way like a curtain.

“No, no. Incarcerated, not incinerated. It means you get sent to jail.”

Tommy stops his backwards movement.

“...Oh.”

That makes more sense.

“Did you really think we’d toast you like a marshmallow?” Spectre snickers in the background until Daedalus thwacks him over the head with a wing.

“In anycase,” Daedalus continues. “No need to give an answer now. This offer is good for a week, after which it will expire. Here,” A small flip phone pulled from the heroes sash is offered to Tommy. “It’s a burner...” Daedalus sighs. “That wasn’t an intentional pun... Anyway, the saved contact in there will dial someone at HQ and they can set up a time and place for us to meet, if you decide you want to take us up on the offer. If we don’t hear from you, we’ll assume you’ve declined.”

A modulated voice springs to life in Tommy’s ear.

“Don’t take that.” Sting directs him with glitchy tones. “But tell them you accept.”

Tommy rolls his eyes at Sting’s paranoia for any and all technology he didn’t have control over, but ignores the burner phone in Daedalus’ hand.

“Don’t need it, big man. Just tell me the time and day, and I’ll meet you then.”

“Oh, uh… I wasn’t expecting you to say ‘yes’ right away. I don’t really have a schedule with me...” Daedalus looks at Spectre who shrugs and just drums his fingers on his arm impatiently.

“Just put it out a week.” Blade says. “If you have something else on that day it’ll give you time to move it.”

“Right... How’s a week from now? Same time, same rooftop.”

“That sounds fine.” Sting prompts.

“That sounds fine.” Tommy repeats.

“Fantastic, we’ll see you then. Unless you had any questions now?”

Tommy scratches at the chin of his mask, when Sting stays silent in his ear. “Not really?”

Spectre claps his hands together. “Great! Well, in that case. It’s been fun, but it’s time to run. Ta ta! See you in a week. Try not to die before then!” He raises his arm straight up and does a little goodbye wave with his fingers as he phases through the roof.

“Spectre, wait! Spe- ohhhhh.” Daedalus pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. He looks at Tommy apologetically. “Sorry to cut out, mate. We’ll have a proper conversation next time. In the meantime…” Daedalus taps on his wrist. “Spectre, you better be hauling your butt over to 23^rd or so help me…”

Daedalus takes off from the roof, and the crows that had been waiting on the surrounding buildings join him.

Tommy and Blade watch them go. The stoic hero beside him taps on his sword hilt.

After a moment, Blade points awkwardly at the rooftop entrance.

“I’m just… gonna go.”

He strides to the door, and surprisingly, it opens.

“Really? You’re taking the civilian route?”

“I don’t really feel like climbing. See you next week, I guess.”

“Bye?”

The door opens and closes with an anticlimactic squeak and ‘ker-chunk.’

(Lab flashback 1… warning for flashback 2 and 3 that involve attempting to cut someone with a scalpel and then the implication of someone setting off a bomb)

Tommy’s earliest memories are of being read a story.

The book in his memory was about a young boy that wanted a puppy, but on his birthday he got a stuffed animal instead. They had just gotten to the part where the boy had woken up and the stuffed puppy had come alive, when they were interrupted.

While the adults talked, Tommy fiddled with the pages. He can’t remember the words, but he can remember the pictures in a fuzzy sort of way. The person reading the story had talked with the other person in a white coat for awhile before they ushered Tommy back to his room.

They hadn’t ever finished the book.

Maybe that’s why the memory had cemented itself, Tommy had wanted to know how it ended.

...

From there he remembers things a bit more.

Nail clippings, mouth swabs, and hair cuts, the classroom where he was taught numbers and reading-- the play area where he got to be with the other kids, many with wings, all of them blond-- and the testing room where he was asked to do things, and then wait as someone wrote it down.

(Lab flashback 2)

“Brilliant.” One of the scientists breathes as he slides the scalpel across Tommy’s skin, and yet again it does nothing.

“What is it?”

The second scientist stands and turns to his companion who has come over to observe. He plucks a hair from his head.

“Ow!”

The scientist rubs the smarting spot while the first drops the hair above the upturned blade. They both watch the hair split in two the moment it touches onto the sharp metal.

The second scientist frowns.

“Yes, yes. Very impressive and sharp. Your point?”

He doesn’t speak, instead he kneels again, takes Tommy’s arm and harshly runs the scalpel across the top of his hand. Tommy flinches, startled, but there is no pain. He looks at the unmarred skin curiously, unsure of what was supposed to happen.

The second scientist’s mouth drops open.

“Oh.”

“Right?”

He laughs. “The buyers are going to love this.”

(Final lab flashback)

“1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10...” Tommy softly recites his numbers while staring at the ceiling. He has to keeps starting over because he loses track easily, but he’s slowly getting better.

He’s gotten to 44 when the door to his room opens and light from the hallway cuts into the darkness of the room. The door pushes open further and Tommy sees it’s one of the brown haired scientists.

“Ms. Begonia!” Tommy says and scrambles out of bed to stand at the ready with his arms held strictly to his side.

Ms. Begonia regards him silently. She’s back-lit, and holding a metal case.

“Tommy, you’re supposed to be asleep.”

“I-I was trying Ms. Begonia.” Tommy fidgeted. “I couldn’t sleep so I was practicing my numbers.”

“That’s very… efficient of you, Tommy.”

Tommy beamed at the praise.

Stepping further into his room, Ms. Begonia set her case down. She kneels, her back to Tommy, and he peaks over her shoulder to see her press a few buttons and turn on what he can now see is a timer.

Ms. Begonia pauses before setting it at 10 minutes. The red numbers begin to steadily count down.

Standing up and walking around him, Ms. Begonia sits herself on Tommy’s bed, and while she’s not not allowed to do that -the scientists can do whatever they want- Tommy finds it weird.

“Tommy, come here.” Ms. Begonia says softly, patting the crumpled linen sheets of his bed.

Tommy complies, and when he’s gotten close, Ms. Begonia grabs him under the arms and maneuvers him to her lap.

Her arms wrap around his stiff frame, and she leans them against wall at the head of the bed.

“Is there a… a story, or something you’d like me to tell you about?”

His back is taught, and he holds his hands tightly in his lap.

“Is this a test?” He asks.

“Not quite.” Ms. Begonia says. Tommy doesn’t see how her eyes flit to the device she’s set by the bed, but does feel the shuddering sigh she lets out. “No, it’s not that, Tommy.”

Tommy considers. He’s never been asked a question like this before.

“I’d like to hear… about farms?”

“Farms?”

Tommy stiffly nodded his head.

A chuckle sounds from Ms. Begonia. “Well, farms are big spots of land where people grow food. Miles of land that will grow wheat, or alfalfa, or other types of plants.” Her hand sweeps across his vision as if she was gesturing to an actual place. “While not necessary, many farms also have animals that can also be used for food. For example, chickens lay eggs, and cow produce milk.”

“I like milk.”

“Milk is nice, innit?” Ms. Begonia hums. Feeling encouraged, Tommy nods enthusiastically. “What other things do you like?”

“I like fruit. Apples. Red ones. And when I get to climb the rock wall. I like the memory game, and the balance game, and- and Mr. Cedar cutting my hair. It feels nice when he does it.”

Ms. Begonia doesn’t say anything to that, but she holds him a little tighter. Her chin trembles on his head, and she takes in a breath that doesn’t sound happy. Tommy is unsure if he should continue so he doesn't.

They doesn’t speak for awhile. Tommy closes his eyes to just sit in the moment.

When he opens them again, the red numbers are lower.

“The timer says four minutes.” He says helpfully.

“Thank you, Tommy.” Ms. Begonia mutters into his hair, petting his locks.

The motion feels so nice, kinda tingly on his neck, and Tommy finds himself slowly becoming drowsy.

“I’m sorry,” She whispers and it’s said in such a desperate way that Tommy’s feels an unpleasant pressure in his abdomen. He grips the starched cloth of her coat with the hand not pinned comfortably at his side. He doesn’t want Ms. Begonia to stop holding him, so he ignores the sadness in her tone and presses further into her arms. It’s like a dream he doesn’t want to wake up from.

“Begonia!” A voice thunders from the hallway. Tommy flinches, and the door of Tommy’s room slams open violently.

“Grant!” Begonia cries, lifting Tommy off her lap and hurriedly setting him behind her. Mr. Rowan stalks toward them from the open door. “What are you doing here?!”

“What am I doing here? I found your letter! What are you doing?!” His gaze flits from her to Tommy, then to the device on the ground. He pales. “What have you done?”

“You weren’t supposed to be here.” Begonia wails, heart-broken in tone.

Mr. Rowan… Grant?... kneels down, and tilts the box toward him. His hands move about, sliding at the edges, ghosting over the buttons on the top. Ms. Begonia slides off the bed to stand. “Where’s the off switch?”

Tommy can’t see Ms. Begonia’s face, but he can see the way her hands curl into fists.

“Sarah, how do I turn it off?” Mr. Rowan asks again, his voice clawing up in pitch.

Ms. Begonia says nothing.

“I promise I won’t tell anyone. You-we… No one has to know. Please! Don’t throw away your future. And- and! the future of everyone here at the facility. How is that fair?”

Ms. Begonia is silent a moment longer before she speaks softly.

“You should have stayed home, Grant.”

Mr. Rowan drops his gaze to stare wide-eyed and thin-lipped at the floor. His hands are trembling over the box he holds.

In a sudden burst, Rowan shoots up and dashes for the door. He’s clutching the device between his hands. Begonia screeches in alarm.

“Grant, no! It has to be in this room!” She scrambles after him, hand catching herself from falling on the floor. Both of them are out of the room in seconds. Tommy hears her calling after Rowan distantly through the door they had left open.

More is said, but it’s hard to hears as the volume tapers off as they get farther away.

Tommy stares at the open door, so so confused. He… he’s not sure what to do. Should he follow? Wait for Ms. Begonia or Mr. Rowan to get back? He approaches the open door. The hallway lights shine on white sterile floors. Ms. Begonia said this wasn’t a test, but this all seems much too confusing to not be a test. Nothing makes sense.

They never did tests in his room, though. Tommy looks around at the corners between the ceiling and the wall. They didn’t have a lot of cameras here. Tommy isn’t wearing anything that could be used to record data.

Maybe it wasn’t a test?

Maybe it was.

This was so confusing!

Should just go back to bed? But he’s not feeling very tired right now.

Tommy continues to stare at the open door. He counts quietly under his breath.

“1, 2, 3, 4, 5...”

He gets to 27, and then the walls erupt.

(Ranboo meeting Red Riot for the first time)

Ranboo watched the cars file through the city, bright white head-lights on one side, glowing red tail-lights on the other, creating gridlock patterns on the dark canvas of the streets. He was on ‘break’ now, communicator on hand in case he was needed, but otherwise free to roam. Dream had handed him a hundred and told him to enjoy himself for the next couple hours. Watch a movie perhaps? Grab some dinner.

‘Right, cause those are so enjoyable alone.’ Ranboo thought with the closest thing he could get to sarcasm. Ranboo couldn’t really be mad with the situation, but he couldn’t be happy with it either. Or sad, or anxious, or excited...

Ranboo wasn’t much of anything about anything anymore.

His feet dangled above the 15 story drop. Purple socks sticking out as the only pop of color on his otherwise understated suit. A black mask, scarf, and sunglasses rendered him featureless and a nightly breeze blew his black bangs to the side.

He wouldn’t call himself stressed, but muscles he didn’t realize were tensed unwound in the meditative rooftop quiet. Even the buzz of the city was taking on a more calm feel as the sounds were hushed by the height. This at least... sitting up high, away from everyone... unneeded for tasks or quick get-aways, and allowed to just watch the world… if felt peaceful.

Yeah. Ranboo couldn’t get happy, but he could get peaceful.

“Oi! Don’t jump!”

An unexpected scream caused Ranboo to startle, nearly sending him off the railing he was perched on.

Leaning over the building side and stared at the concrete below, his hair flipped in his vision.

He blinked.

He almost fell. That would have been mildly inconvenient.

Unclenching his hand from the metal he had gripped, and pushing his sunglasses back into place, Ranboo turned. A person in scruffy red attire and a mask jumped from an adjoining building, somehow unfazed by the two story drop. Their color was rendered a muted burgundy by the low lighting on the roof top. They had a hood up. Ranboo briefly wondered how the wind didn’t flip it down, but kept the idle question to himself as the person skidded to a stop just a few feet from his spot.

Getting a closer look- ah, the Red Riot. Dream had the start of a file on him. Vigilante. Powers yet unknown. He had managed to last over a year in his chosen profession which was impressive for multiple reasons.

“Don’t… uh, don’t jump.”

Not the most articulate, apparently.

(Continued Ranboo and Tommy talk... This stays because I like it and also because I licked a bar of soap to try and figure out how to describe it for this bit of writing… I didn’t even come up with a decent description, the bar just tasted ‘soapy’)

“Feeling better now?” He asks.

Red Riot gauges whether he’s being mocked before sighing and leaning against the railing. He mulls for a small stretch of time before responding, “Maybe... a bit.” He smacks the railing halfheartedly. The metal vibrates briefly and makes a reverberating sound that is quickly drowned out by the sound of wind and distant cars.

Ranboo welcomes the quiet back to the rooftop. Before Dream’s influence, he would have been a shivering anxious mess after such an outburst, but as he is now, he does little more than take a deeper breath than normal.

Red Riot cranes his head back, looking at the night bereft of stars as was expected of a city sky. “I-Sorry... I’m kinda having an off night.”

Ranboo nods.

Red Riots shoulder hunch a bit, weighing down with something that looks like guilt.

“Sorry about yelling at you.”

Ranboo shrugs. “It’s okay.”

“I, uh, guess I should get going then?”

“Okay.”

A bout of quiet falls, one that Ranboo does not mind, but Red Riot can only stand for a few seconds. The vigilante twiddles nervously. “I’m actually waiting for my chair man to get an update. Do you mind if I wait here a bit?”

“No.” Ranboo replies.

Red Riot shuffles a bit.

“Do you mind if I keep talking?”

“No.”

The vigilante inclines his head at Ranboo’s blasé tone.

“...Would you mind if started twerking and sang the song of my people?”

“I suppose not?”

“You don’t mind much, do you?”

“I do not.”

“Huh.” Red Riot picked at the seam of his glove. Whether it’s in nerves or contemplation, Ranboo can’t tell. “In that case, can I ask question?”

“Go for it.”

“If, uh… If you had to name a little girl, what would you choose?”

Ranboo quirked an eyebrow at him. That was an odd question.

It seemed neither relevant nor standard fare for getting to know strangers. Ranboo had been out of the social game for awhile now, but he still thought that he had enough awareness to know how a normal conversation ought to go. Whatever the case...Ranboo’s gaze shifted back to the city.

“Let me think for a moment.”

Names. Choosing of one should be a simple task.

He thinks of the girls he used to know, rolling their names around in his mind like he would a cluster of marbles in his hand. Ashley, Navaeh, Bell, Jasmine, Violet… Hmmm…

He liked names that were things in English, like flowers.

His mother’s old garden gives him a good list to reference: peonies, alliums, violets, day lillies… The variety of flowers swirl past his mind’s eye in a blur of petals and colors.

A memory strikes through his thoughts, parting the haze with surprising clarity.

Curious seven year old hands plucking a stray dandelion, and the yellow bloom put in an equally curious mouth. Young Ranboo had been on a botany kick. Finding out which plants were edible led him to hunting the flower beds and the lawn, like a wild cat on the savannah. He had just started chewing the flower when his mother had shrieked at him. She made him spit it out, told him not to swallow ‘so-help-her-God’, dragged him over to the water hose, and then had him gargle the forbidden hose water while she went to grab the soap.

Chewing on a bar of ivory had not been pleasant, but gargling until bubbles spilled out of his mouth had been novel. His mom had thought soap was the best way to wash out any herbicides that may have been on the weed, and after spending nearly twenty minutes trying to get the gross soapy taste out, she brought him inside to make hot chocolate.

Hot chocolate in summer was also quite novel, and Ranboo remembered it wryly and fondly.

A pang.

Ranboo felt that in his chest. He brought a hand up to lay over his heart, surprised by the sharp longing, though it left as soon as it came.

If that persisted… he would need to get back to his room.

“Well?” Red Riot asked.

Ah, right. Names.

“Allium.” Ranboo decided.

“What?”

“Allium. It’s a purple bunch of flowers. Like a fuzz ball on a stalk. It’s pretty and then you could have the option of name variations. Al, Ali, Allium.” Ranboo ticked his fingers down with each name.

“A good ol’ three-for-one deal on that, eh?”

“Sure.”

“Hmm…Well, thanks. I’ll add it to the list.”

“You’re welcome.”

“What’s your name anyway?” Red Riot asks with a curious tilt of his head. “I’m Red Riot.”

Ah, right. They hadn’t had proper introductions yet. Ranboo had forgotten.

“Void Walker.” Ranboo said quietly.

(Tubbo’s name suggestion)

“Hey, Sting. What would you name a little girl?”

“Slagathor, destroyer of worlds.”

….

….

“Of course.”

“Of course.”

(Clementine have been living with Tommy for awhile now. She is self conscious about being a moth, This would be the first chapter to get Tommy and Clem to the Library where Kristen works)

Clementine rubbed her eyes as her lower lip jutted out.

“Moths are just ugly butterflies.”

Tommy let out an offended gasp. He placed his fists firmly on the sides of his hips.

“They are not! I will not have this moth slander in my house!” It took half a second for him to decide his next course of action. “Clementine! Get your coat. We are going to the library.”

Clementine didn’t know what a library was, and truly didn’t want to move from her place on the floor, but with tears and reluctance, she stood up, letting Tommy maneuver her arms into the yellow winter coat.

(The rest is too incomplete to post, but after they get to the library, Tommy checks out a bunch of books to show Clementine how cool moths are.)

(Library snippet #2. Clementine tries to get Kristen and Tommy together)

“Ms. Kristen, will you marry, Tommy? He’s very caring, and women love him very much.”

Kristen and Tommy choke at the same time.

“Clem, I- no, that wouldn’t-” Tommy sputtered.

Kristen regained herself faster and ended up laughing lightly. “That’s a really sweet offer, but I prefer guys that can grow facial hair.”

Clementine frowned.

“What’s facial hair?”

“Oh, uh, hair that grows on your face... beards, mustaches.”

Clementine turned her woeful gaze back to Tommy, seemingly trying to defy the odds, getting his face to spontaneously grow hair with her mournful stare alone.

“He could make a beard. He’s good with sewing” Clem tried to reason. “He could make the biggest bestest beard you ever saw.”

(After the library, Clementine is sad Kristen can’t be her mom)

Tommy felt the drag of Clementine on his hands as she slowed walking more and more, and rubbed at her eyes.

“Oh, come here.” Tommy cooed, lifting her under the arms and holding her. She dropped her head onto his shoulder, and gripped the fabric of his shirt. “Shh, shh, it’s okay.”

“I want a mom.” Clem’s teary voice cried from the crook of his neck.

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” Tommy said, using the same nickname Kristen had used. It felt strange on his tongue. He paused. “Do… you want me to start dating?”

Tommy, wasn’t opposed to it. He was vaguely aware that he wanted to find someone, like… eventually. He had seen Snow White. Had watched the princess and prince ride lovingly into the sunset. The idea of finding your perfect match was compelling, though as big of a game as he talked, the entire concept terrified him.

He wouldn’t even know where to begin… But for Clementine, he would figure it out.

Clem just shook her head.

“I want… I want Kristen to be my mom.”

The teen felt his tension deflate a bit as the concept got pushed away.

“I know, Clem. I know. I’m sorry. Do you want to hear about the poggers night I had fighting with Merling?”

“No.” Clem said with a shuddering voice.

“Yeah, okay.”

Tommy held her for the rest of the walk home.

(Random scene. Sting convinces Tommy to pet a feral dog)

“Come on! Please!”

“No, Sting! I- No! It looks like it wants to tear off my arm.”

“Remind me how that would be a problem for you?”

“Look. Just cause I’m indestructible, doesn’t mean my clothes are.”

“Sound like you’re just being a big baby.”

“Ugh! How dare you! I am a MAN.”

“Please! I just… I want... he’s so cute. I want to pet him vicariously.”

“Sounds like a medical problem.”

“I mean that I want to you to pet him because I can’t. Be my proxy.”

Tommy looks at the dog in the alleyway, teeth bared, and hackles raised. It had unfortunately not conveniently walked away during the course of the conversation.

Tommy makes a sound of uncertainty, but Sting senses his crumbling will.

“Do it...” Comes the start of a chant through the speaker in the mask. “Do it, do it, do it-”

Tommy throws his head back in exasperation. The dog flinches.

“Fine!”

Tommy stomps toward the dog. It begins snarling viciously at him and backing until its back hits the brick wall behind it.

“Come on you stupid mutt...” Tommy murmurs, reaching his left hand forward. It’s no surprise to him when the quivering thing launches forward and bites down on the proffered limb. Teeth sink through the fabric, and hit his skin. The yellowing teeth stop at his flesh, unable to pierce the skin. Tommy feels the pressure, but no pain even at the dog begins the thrash its head violently side to side.

“Yeah, yeah, tough guy-” Tommy brings his other hand up to pet at its neck. The dog immediately turns to bite at the other arm. This doesn’t deter Tommy. He switches to his heretofore chewed on hand to begin rubbing at the dog’s ear.

It’s lip twitches up but the tone of it’s growl dips suddenly to a low rumble. It eyes him warily, the fur on it’s back still spiked, but it stops actively biting down.

“There ya go.” Tommy says, smiling a little when the dog leans in to the petting.

(Tommy has a little breakdown-- Set after he’s started paroling with the heroes, and he realizes that he wishes he was closer to them)

Tommy was envious of what the heroes had.

He was aware (in a way he would never acknowledge) that he wasn’t exactly welcome in on the family dynamic by Daedalus, and that Blade had no interest. They were both just too polite and awkward to directly tell him ‘no,’ ...unless he were to bring it up to them first. And he has no intention of ever doing that.

So, things will stay as they are, and he will continue to call Daedalus ‘Dad,’ despite the fact that it only gets him a thin smile and polite laughter, and he will continue to grab at the Blade even though it only gets him a weary sigh and an arm trying to shake him off.

Spectre will indulge him at least.

It’s why he puts himself close to the spectral hero, feigning nonchalance, but really hoping for the man to ruffle at his hood, or hold onto his shoulder. Often, Tommy’ll take a swing at Spectre’s arms, and he won’t fight too hard when he’s put in a playful choke hold because it’s the closest thing to a hug he’s had in awhile.

He probably couldn’t handle an actual hug though.

His skin feels funny enough with just the casual touches. Sting says he’s probably ‘touch-starved,’ and would get overwhelmed if he took in too much too fast.

Sting explained, that you had to ease into things like that.

Which was stupid.

It wasn’t fair. He wanted to be hugged.

Why couldn’t you sleep for two days to catch up on two days of lost sleep? Why couldn’t you eat 3 days worth of food to fill your stomach when you had gone three days without? When you were hungry you needed food. When you were thirsty you needed water. The longer you went without either, the more you needed them. And yet! Paradoxically you could only take in small amounts of what you needed lest you risk sickness.

It made no sense.

He wanted an ocean’s worth. He could hardly handle glass full.

Loneliness sits heavy in his bones, and he feels hollow inside. Unseen. There’s an urge in him that wants to crack the middle fuse of his sternum, pry open the ribs, and scoop out his heart to offer it to the trio, if only they would stay. See him. Maybe even love him.

Tommy clutches at his the middle of his chest, pin prick tears in his eyes, and he shudders in a deep breath.

He aches so badly. It’s driving him mad.

He tries to get a hold of the gaping emptiness he feels within his body, to understand it. At the same time, he fights the urge to wallow in it. All combined it’s like wrestling a leviathan and he finds himself clenching at his arms to ride out the overwhelming feeling.

He breathes and the feeling stays... and then it fades, and fades and it fades a little bit more, until it’s something a bit more manageable.

The ache is still there…

But it’s lessened considerably, to the point where he can ignore it, again.

Tommy stands and shakes out his limbs.

“Well that was dumb.” He says. “They better get here soon, or I’m gonna tear something up.”

The night air makes no comment.

(Tommy has a breakdown part 2: Electric Boogaloo- He’s on patrol with Philza when the stress of trying to keep up with missions, patrols and taking care of Clementine have all hit him too hard.)

“I’m tired.” Red Riot cried. Huffy gasps came from the speaker on his mask, frazzled desperation leaking out from behind the painted black teeth.

Philza quickly wrapped one arm around the vigilante before he could buckle, tucking him into his shoulder.

The winged hero didn’t say anything, but began to lightly rock the two of them.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” Red Riot sobbed. “I’m tired.”

Philza flicked a quick glance down to Red before staring off into the distance again. The rocking motion reminded him faintly of trying to comfort Wilbur as a baby. But even more than that, holding the young man with one arm while the other hung limp at his side, he felt like he was holding a ghost of himself. Phil all too easily saw the echo of his younger years, a single father, tired, frightened, hopeless… feeling too weak to handle the responsibility of caring for another person, let alone one who depended on you for everything while you were crumbling apart.

“Please...” The young man nestled in his arm cried. “I’m so tired.”

“I know mate, I know.” Philza said softly.

Philza’s gaze became unfocused. “You get through it.” He sighed, and in a moment of weary impulse, he rests his check on top of the vigilante’s head.

They stayed that way for a long while. Red Riot doesn’t offer any more information, and Philza doesn’t ask. He just rocked the vigilante until the sounds of crying began to calm down.

“There you are, mate.”

Philza brought one midnight black wing over his shoulder to loosely curtain the vigilante.

“You can take off your mask and wipe your face if you want.” Philza said. “I won’t look.”

Red Riot pauses a moment, and though Philza can’t see it, he feels him nod. Red Riot pulls away, and Philza turns his head.

He hears a set of clicks as presumably the latches on a mask are undone. A voiceless sniffle rises unmodified from beneath the black feathers. The sound is so naked and vulnerable without the voice changer. Philza hums softly to himself cover it.

Philza gives him another moment before he speaks.

“You know, there are many reasons to join the hero’s commission, and one of them is having a support network. We may have powers, but we can’t be super all the time. We need one another.”

Red Riot doesn’t respond, and Philza takes this as even more evidence of his fatigue.

Philza retracts his wings. “Go home, and sleep.”

“But…!”

Philza raises a hand to silence the vigilante. “Mate. Part of being an effective hero is knowing when to take care of yourself. I will call you if an emergency comes up, but only then. I’ve got the rest covered.”

“...Okay.”

(Philza be like: Here! Take this good advice I’ve got laying around, I’m not using it.)

(Glimpse 1 of Tubbo at home)

Tubbo sighed, pushing himself back from the desk. Straightening his spine with a stretch, his back popped in four places and he shuffled to the bathroom.

Stepping on to the cold tile (and the cold tile felt like comfort because he had never found any video cameras in the bathroom) Tubbo grabbed his bangs, and with a single twist he clipped them away from his face. Flicking the faucet on he inspected his skin while the water warmed. A couple pimples had broken out on his forehead. Not surprising since he had neglected his skin care routine for the past few days, but it still sent a pang of anxiety through his stomach.

It should be okay, he consoled himself, since his hair should effectively cover the blemishes.

Tubbo schooled his worried expression into a stony mask.

He resented the very real fact that acne had the potential to edge him out of Schlatts’s good graces. His face played a role in the leniency his father gave him, so he did his best to maintain it. Large, doe-looking eyes, cherubic features, and golden blond hair, it was a facade of innocence that he balanced with a catalog of swear words he used when he thought Schlatt would find it amusing.

Tubbo breathed deep and forced his shoulders to relax. Each day was trying so hard to keep under the radar. Being active enough not to warrant concern, disappointing enough to not have expectation, charming enough to not raise ire... Being invisible had Tubbo wound tighter than a spring.

(Glimpse 2 of Tubbo’s home life)

“You’re father is nearly finished.” The guard informed him.

Tubbo inclined his head to the door of his father’s office. He heard Schlatt’s voice muffled voice through the door. Raised enough that he could hear the overly sweet tones.

That was never a good sign.

“Just let me know when he’s done.” Tubbo responded. Keeping his voice indifferent. He pulled out a couple of wireless earphones, and went to wait in the sitting area. The earbuds weren’t actually playing anything, but their presence gave Tubbo plausible deniability if things got heated in the other room.

Slipping into the next room, Tubbo threw himself down on one of the chairs and hung his legs over the armrest.

A portrait of his mother and father hung in the sitting room. He glanced it over. His mother’s soft angelic face and cascading golden hair contrasted with his father who proudly sported slicked black hair and a sharp business suit to compliment his sly features.

Not for the first time, Tubbo wondered why Schlatt kept the picture here.

He could guess, but his father would never confirm.

On the rare occasions Ramsey would bring up Tubbo’s mother, it was usually with some caustic or flippant comment, scoffing at how much of a useless girl she was or complaining about how stupid women were.

Still, Tubbo remembered evenings where his father would stare at the picture while nursing a bottle of scotch. ‘-for you, y’know?’ the drunk man would whisper after the amber liquid was half gone. Another time when Tubbo was younger, his father brushed the hair gently from his eyes, and fondly remarked on how much he looked like her.

Whatever relationship they had, Ramsey seemed to teeter between scorn and reverence for the woman.

Tubbo himself had an amorphous sense of connection and no reference.

Was she nice? Was she kept in the dark about Ramsey’s business like Tubbo was? Was she aware but indifferent? A willing participant?

In yearning, Tubbo looked at his mother, but the painter ensured that she would always be just to the left of meeting his gaze. The true nature of the woman was the one thing Tubbo didn’t let himself look into. In this way he could keep her in a Schrodinger's box in his brain.

The cat was simultaneously alive and dead when you didn’t open the box.

His mother had the equal potential to be either a devil or an angel, and that possibility of her sainthood (despite the fact that she was likely irrevocably and utterly human) gave him comfort.

Tubbo shook his head.

Now was not the time to be morose. It certainly was not the time to take his head out of the game. He slapped his cheeks. He still had a dinner to get through… Dinner, then checking the aftermath of his automated attack, then research while he helped Red Riot patrol... It would likely be a late night.

...Ugh. He wanted a nap.

The muffled sound of a silencer going off startled Tubbo.

There were no other sounds. No screams or further shots fired.

A clean kill then.

He closed his eyes in… pity? Regret for the poor soul on the receiving end? He wasn’t sure, but he quickly tapped on the screen of his phone to appear busy, and it was only a couple minutes later that a guard came in.

The guard called for his attention, which Tubbo ignored with a cold sweat, committing to his act of being a distracted teen listening to music.

“Hey!”

Tubbo looked up with feigned surprise and pulled one of his earbuds out.

“What’s up big man?”

“Dinner time.”

(Random scene #2 Tubbo and Tommy talk about random stuff)

“See, there are vertical bee boxes, and horizontal bee boxes, and the horizontal ones are less of a hassle, because you don’t have to un-stack them to get at the honey or expand the hive space, ergo, you disrupt the bees less.” Sting’s voice came through the earpiece, as he yakked on. “Plus, you can have them at a sitting height, so you can still keep bees even if you’re in a wheelchair.”

“You planning on losing the use of your legs anytime soon, big man?”

“No, but I do live in a place where keeping your kneecaps isn’t a sure thing. Especially, if the guys in charge wants to set an example for the underlings.” Tommy laughed, but Sting went silent for a moment. “I shouldn’t have said that on mic.”

Tommy’s pocket buzzed, and he flipped out the communicator.

t’s dangerous talking to you

I say things out loud I shouldn’t

Tommy laughed again.

(Tommy and Clem are cooking when Tommy realizes he needs some help with teaching Clementine kitchen safety)

Clem grabbed the apple in her hand, like she had seen Tommy do, and placed the knife at the top where the stem came out of the fruit’s red, dapple-dotted skin.

Tommy watched with amusem*nt as she tried to line the knife up just-so, even sticking her tongue out in concentration. Before…

Tommy snapped his hand to Clementine’s wrist, nearly faster than he could think. With his other hand he had grabbed the blade of the knife.

Clementine looked up at Tommy with a fearful expression. Tommy was wide-eyed and blank faced until his thoughts eventually formed into words.

“You… you’re not invulnerable like I am.” He said. “You can’t... use a knife like I do.”

Clementine shook a little but let Tommy take the knife from her hands. He set the blade on the counter. Tommy paced a little as he thought out loud.

“I don’t know how to proper use a knife. We...could… we could find someone… Ms. Garcia is visiting family until next week… internet then?

But he couldn’t get to the internet because he had already reached his weekly limit.

“The stupid time limit.” Tommy groaned.

Originally, Sting had allowed him unlimited access to the internet with the communicator, and Tommy was free to frolic the digital landscape to his heart’s content.

Not so anymore.

His first strike was downloading from a sketchy link that ended up freezing the phone with viruses... or malware? Tommy wasn’t really sure. All he knew was the communicator wasn’t working, and it was radio silent until a couple hours later when one of Sting’s drones flew through the window and threw a new communicator at his head.

His second strike was having no self control and forgoing sleep to watch videos. It was so easy to look at the clock and think ‘Oh, I have plenty of time,’ before looking up again and finding that 4 hours had passed. He tried to convince himself that missing a bit of shut eye was something he could power through, but he did it so consistently that his reaction times noticeably worsened and he kept falling asleep on rooftops.

His third strike was asking, “Hey, Sting? Is the Earth flat?” after going down one too many video rabbit holes.

He knows better now, but, yeah...

Sting only lets him have five hours of internet on the communicator per week now, and he wasn’t allowed to download things on his own. No ifs ands or buts, and Tommy had already used his time up until Monday.

But this was important.

Tommy took a deep breath and hit the ‘call Sting’ button.

It rang for three bursts before the phone was answered with a groggy “Hello?”

“Hey! Sting, Big Man!”

“Red?” Sting croaked from the other end. He sounded like a man with bed head and eyes that couldn’t open. “What’s going on?”

“Well, you see, you know how I’m only allowed five hours of internet a week, and how I’ve already used like, all of that?”

“… Mhmm.”

“I need one more hour.”

“...Did you legitimately wake me up to- No... Go use the computers at the library.”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“I need to be at home for this.”

“What is this?”

“I’m learning how to use knifes! In the kitchen. Y’know, properly!”

The other side of the line stays quiet as Sting digests what he’s just heard. A ‘paff’ sound comes through the speaker, presumably Sting’s head hitting his pillow.

There is silence followed by a series of clicks and the sound of the phone hanging up.

“Did he just-” Tommy is ready to start an offended rant.

Tommy pulls the phone away from his ear to see the screen flash a ‘call ended’ message and…. And one more hour of internet!

“Yes!” Tommy pumps the air with his fist. “Clem! Grab your apron! We’re gonna be learning!”

(Random Scene: Techno, Philza, Wilbur learn the name of Tommy’s guy in the chair. They all guess why Tubbo chose the name Sting as an alias)

“Sting.”

“Like the hobbit sword?” Blade guesses.

“Or that one singer?” Spectre wonders.

“Or the police operation?” Daedalus ponders.

“Or what a bee does.” Tommy suggests sagely.

The comm buzzes.

Red got it

“Hah!” Tommy exclaimed showing off the message to the company. “Take that, boys.”

“I call foul! There is clearly favoritism at play here.” Spectre complained.

(Dream contemplates letting Ranboo go)

“Ranboo.”

“Yes?”

“If I… If you were free, would you ever forgive me?”

He tilts his head to the side.

“Free?”

“Yes. Like you were before." Dream gestures vaguely to his eyes. “Without this.”

“Ah...”

Without the mind control. Without the suppression that Ranboo had lived with for so many years now.

“Do I have all my memories in this scenario?”

“...Yes.” Dream answers slowly.

Ranboo closes his eyes and feels like a scientist watching a test from behind a wall of glass. He collects what he remembers of his temperament, his beliefs, and meshes them with current reality to simulate his emotions.

The betrayal... the fear... the anger that would be sure to come... the bitter grief over the years lost, the understanding, the desperate desire and anguish overtaking his heart… Oh, Ranboo would be devastated, he concluded clinically; however, he would forgive Dream. Almost instantly under the right circ*mstances.

“Yes.” Ranboo says into an atmosphere he recognizes as tense.

Dreams taps two of his fingers on the table. Mulling something over in the silence.

Ranboo takes note.

Dream hadn’t overtly contemplated letting him go since the first week he had kept Ranboo from leaving. Ranboo does not feel anticipation- he can’t- but he recognizes that it’s a weighty moment.

The fingers on the table do a tap-tap-tap rhythm, going from a steady beat, to frantic, back to steady.

Tap tap tap-tap-tap.

Taptaptap.

Tap tap.

Tap.

Dream’s hand stills. Then it flattens as he pushes himself up.

“That’s good to know.”

Ranboo blinks.

“Come on.” Dream turns toward the door and motions Ranboo to follow.

If he had access to his emotions-- Ranboo thinks matter of factly-- he’d be crushed. But he’s incapable of that.

As it is, he follows Dream without complaint.

(Random Scene/Patrol Talk: Why Philz’s hero name ‘Daedalus’ is pronounced wrong)

“Well you see, Blade called me Dad-uh-lus from the beginning, and by the time we knew any better it was too late.”

“Oooooh, so this is Blade’s fault.” Red Riot clarified.

“Uh... yep.”

Gee, thanks Phil.

It hurt’s Techno’s soul with every mocking internet comment.

He want’s to scream it from the rooftops, that YES! HE KNOWS THAT IT’S ACTUALLY PRONOUNCED “DAY-DALUS!” HE’S KNOWN THE ENTIRE TIME! But instead he bears it in silence.

The injustice of it all.

Maybe it’ll be a confession he can make if he gets wounded enough in a fight. Blame his loose lips on blood loss.

He could see it now. Some stray bullet would catch him in the abdomen, and as he lay bleeding out on the street, cradled in the frantic arms of some unfortunate citizen, he’d beckon them closer. He’d desperately whisper in their ear “I always knew it was Daedalus…” before passing out. He could loll out his tongue and let his hand fall dramatically to the ground to really sell the bit.

Ah, yes. The sweet, sweet release of information sounds so cathartic that Techno is sorely tempted to try and find a villain right now. He glances at the rain. The mood would be perfect with the weather, too.

Techno sighs.

It’d never work. The internet would never believe him.

...And it could potentially endanger Wilbur or Philza. There was that too.

If only Wil could control his big fat mouth and not call Philza ‘dad’ while on the field, then Techno wouldn’t have to butcher the pronunciation of ancient Greek names to cover his butt.

Red Riot snickers behind a glove, and takes a bite out of the sandwich.

“Wow, Blade. Poor Crowfather is stuck with the wrong name because you know jack sh-” A crow caws, “-t about myths.”

Techno rolls his eyes.

“Weren’t you the one who didn’t know what a Minotaur was til a couple of days ago?

“Oh, so you’re gonna blame me for not knowing about one super old monster from some super old story?”

“I think you might just be uncultured.”

Red Riot retaliates by sticking his tongue out.

“Mememe, I’m the Blade, I know big words and dusty old book references cause I’m a big huge nerd.”

Techno pauses and thinks.

He normally wouldn’t result to this tactic. Wilbur, clever debater that he was, would never let Techno win an argument with one word insults...

...but he thinks he can get away with it here.

“Callow.”

Red Riot waits for him to elaborate, but the hero-vigilante merely lets the younger stew in his confusion. Red takes another bite out of his dinner and Techno is sure from the set of his jaw that he’s narrowing his eyes underneath the mask.

“I don’t know what that means ya overgrown hog.”

“Uncouth.”

“If you’re gonna insult me, at least use real words.” Red demands, crumbs spewing from his mouth.

“Repugnant.”

“Jokes on you. I actually like pugs!”

Techno blinks dispassionately.

“Gormless.”

“...Daedalus!! Blade is picking on me!!”

The winged hero sighs wearily from the side.

(Tommy reminisces about MD, who was pivitol in him surviving the streets right after the lab explosion of his childhood)

Drugs… always reminded him of MD. A strange homeless man who was willing to share food with a clueless kid.

He never knew what MD was short for-- the answer always changed. Mary Donavan, Martin Dean, Merry Danger, Massive Duck.

“Ey, don’t you know?” MD said after Tommy had asked yet again. The man took a paper plate that they had just emptied of a burrito, and flipped it over to draw a simple smiley face on the back with a stray sharpie he had. He placed the oil stained plate in front of his face. “It stands for Mexican Dream.”

Tommy had laughed uproariously at that one for whatever reason.

MD talked about drugs a lot... and sex... and he cursed every other sentence… The kind of guy you would never want around your kids. And without him, Tommy probably would have surely starved to death in his first year on the streets.

Tommy’s heart hurt at the memory. He never did find out what happened to MD. Like so many, he was just gone one day. When you were homeless no one cared if you disappeared, the world just sighed in relief that there was one less grubby transient blocking the sidewalk. Tommy wipes at his eyes.

He wonders if he would have felt comfortable enough to introduce Clementine to MD.

(A memory of MD)

MD hacked, and coughed in a way that came from deep in his throat. He nearly doubled over, before straightening again, and spitting a mess on the concrete that was coagulated red with blood. Tommy stepped away with disgust. MD just took another long drag.

Tommy stared up at him with concern.

MD quirked an eyebrow at him with a smile, the joint he pulled away from his lips now had a red stain on the end.

“You want a hit?”

“No!” Was the vehement and immediate answer that burst from his mouth. Tommy looked between the proffered joint, and the man offering it, nose crinkled.

MD’s lips split into a grin that showed off stained teeth behind the blunt.

“Yeah, man? Yeah. These things’ll kill ya. Ey?”

“You’re gross and weird.”

MD laughed at him. “I think you’re the weird one, little man.”

“Big! I’m a big man!”

“Ey, if you say so.”

(Flashback/How Philza met his wife: In which I do my best to personify a fridge)

Wilbur’s mother was an outwardly cold woman.

Not cruel. No, never cruel, but… callous, blunt, sometimes walking away before a person was finished speaking if she deemed it unimportant.

She was relentless in her duties, and seemingly more machine than anything.

While her personality left much to be desired, her power made her a valuable asset to the hero’s commission. Able to enact a kind of stasis field around a person, she had saved many from fatal injuries by “freezing” them, allowing them to hold on long enough to get to lifesaving treatment.

When she wasn’t preserving those at death’s door, she was tending to the injured as a doctor. A very good doctor, in fact. She was quite skilled... but again that ungainly personality seeped into her work. Many likened it to being treated by an autonomous brick wall with a medical degree.

Philza’s own interactions with her were awkward and stilted. She was always the buzzkill when they were assigned to the same team. Scolding the team if they chattered too much over the radios, insisting everyone check their equipment before they went out, picking apart their strategies, and giving criticism afterward-- she was the unfavorite on every mission.

All things considered, Philza was perfectly content avoiding her company.

Future events would make that practice impossible. The catalyst was a mission gone wrong.

A pole embedded in his back... a burning sensation briefly soothed by a chill... and suddenly he was no longer fighting on the field, but writhing on a cot as doctors put him under and surgeons worked to remove the metal jutting out of his torso.

She had been the one to get him out of harms way, saving him from what would have been a fatal blow by a villain.

For some reason she also felt it necessary to visit him every day after.

At first it had been torture. Confined to bed, with little to do, the first visit had consisted of her lecturing him on what to do for recovery. The second was much the same. The 3rd visit included a video and powerpoint of what he had done wrong in his fight and how to avoid getting hurt in the future. At that point he had snapped at her rather harshly, though his capacity for intimidation was rather lessened by being bed-bound.

He said all the things to her face what were said behind her back. He called her unfeeling, and cruel. He berated her for her lectures, screaming that sometimes an injured person needed sympathy and not a reprimand.

He didn’t see her for two days after that.

On the third day she came again. They sat in tense silence. She didn’t look at him as she sat by his bedside. Philza muttered a ‘sorry for yelling.’

After a moment she handed him a card.

It was a sympathy card with a hand written “I hope you get well soon!!” on the inside. Double exclamation points and all.

His head had fallen back on the pillow and he stared at the ceiling while holding the card against his chest. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, but he said ‘thank you’ anyway.

The next few days were awkward.

There was a lot of silent checking of vitals and giving doctor’s orders, but she asked something new at the end of the visit. ‘Do you need anything?’

Philza regarded her with suspicion, mentioning that laying with wings on a hospital bed was rather difficult.

The next day his custom pillow for back sleeping was brought to him.

She asked the same thing at her next visit. And the next. And the next.

Philza mentioned how dreary the room was. A pot of living flowers wound up next to his bedside.

Philza mentioned how bored he was. A tablet with games and an archive of books found it’s way into his hands.

Philza mentioned how he was craving a cheese danish. It got him a pinched look and a lecture on how he needed to be giving his body the nutrients it needed to repair itself, but none-the-less, in an hour, a freshly made cheese danish was put into his hands.

Looking at the pastry, Philza felt something go ‘click’ in his brain.

“Do you need anything else?” She had asked him.

“No...I think I have everything.”

He thinks he gets it now.

He looks back on his memories of her with new context. Whether she didn’t see the point of kind words, or she simply lacked to that ability to use them, she spoke through actions instead. To her, care was up-to-date equipment, timely communication, and a well stocked medical bag... It was providing what her team needed and being a reliable pillar.

The day he’s released from the hospital, he looks at her with a half smile.

“I wanted to say...Thank you for saving me… and beyond that, thank you for your care, and for all that you do to keep us safe.”

She paused a moment before acknowledging him with a mild hum and head nod.

And that was it for awhile.

It pleased him, to an extent, to be conscious of this light inside her. A light that most others were unaware of.

It certainly made Philza’s continued interactions with her more tolerable when he could understand why she did things. Like, how every ‘check your gear before you go’ was a ‘come back safe’ that Philza no longer did with grumbling but instead a cheeky salute and quirked smile.

She seemed to ease up on her critique too, giving it with less bite and totality. Or maybe Philza took it less personally now that he knew it wasn’t meant as a bid for control. Maybe both were true.

Still, as much insight as he did have, he didn’t claim to have a full knowledge.

In fact, he had been fairly certain that she still viewed him with the same professional distance she had with everyone else.

It was why he was caught so off guard when, without context or preamble, she approached him one day and requested that he kiss her.

Philza was ruffled at the both the suddenness and unexpectedness of her question. He had never considered her in such a way, but… at the same time... he found he could do no else but remove the bucket hat from his head and oblige her.

(Flashback #2: In which Philza’s wife is Fridged)

One year and eleven months: Phil collapses by the cooling body of his wife.

Two hours later he paints the sidewalk red with a villain by way of a 40 story drop.

Three hours later he is removed from hero duty, put on an indefinite probation.

And four hours and five minutes later, in the dark hours of the early morning, he holds his infant son, and drenches the child’s onesie in tears.

(The aftermath of Philza’s wife’s death... Warnings for depressive introspection and a sense of hopelessness)

They say it’s helpful to express depression as something you have, rather than something you are. In this way, it is classified as something to deal with, instead of being claimed as a part of your identity. It makes sense to Philza... but Philza can’t extricate himself from his own situation in the same way. He can’t.

Philza is a widower.

There is no changing that. The world is less for the loss of his wife. Less for the loss of someone so subtly vibrant, and loving, and losing her is now forever apart of his identity.

Still, he’s grateful that there isn’t an equivalent name to give to his son. Wilbur has lost his mother, but as long as Philza is alive, Wilbur will never be an orphan.

Philza is a father.

Probation ends up being a roundabout way of getting parental leave.

His son. His tiny, precious son... Philza can’t feel much of anything when he looks at him, but he blankets his son in his wings and holds him through the night.

Philza is a father. But Philza is also needed.

The hero commission ends up caving after 11 months.

Probation was definitely supposed to last much much longer -probably forever- but his skills are needed, and they have no choice but to call him in.

They provide the proper people to watch his baby. Two professionals sworn to secrecy. Philza knows with bland certainty that should they cause his son harm, he will kill them. When they are also made aware of this fact, he leaves Wilbur in their care.

Philza is a hero.

He doesn’t much feel like one, but muscle memory serves him well.

He dodges, and weaves, and subdues. The rookies on the mission stare at him in awe as he walks away with the villain in toe, but they do not try to speak to him. With sallow eyes and sickly pallor, he is a wraith, and everyone is too afraid to break whatever trace he’s fallen into.

They call him in again and again, and nobody tries to pretend that he is supposed to be somewhere else.

Philza is… a father.

His son, Wilbur, is precocious. Utterly extroverted, and full of personality. An explosion of charisma contained in pudgy limbs and wavy brown hair that constantly falls in his face. Looking at his own disposition and that of his late wife, Philza has no clue where this temperament came from.

It’s an ever growing realization that he has no idea what he’s doing, and he finds it much easier to leave Wilbur to be watched by people with more experience. After all, that’s the smart thing to do, right? Right… whatever excuse to ease the sting of his abandonment.

Philza is broken.

He loves his son, but he lacks the energy to be anything more than mildly affectionate on the admittedly rare occasions he is home. He knows Wilbur suffers because of it, especially as he gets older.

To try to counteract the lack, Philza tries to be lenient. How could he punish his child’s unruly behavior when he knows he the cause of it? When he knows Wilbur is just trying to get his attention? It’s only fair right? ...Right?

Philza is broken.

Like, a machine thats components had fallen out of alignment, but still somehow managed to function enough to get the job done… That was Philza. He’s learned to mask it. A smile here. A chuckle there. But those are more muscle memory than genuine.

There are some people that bring his emotions closer. Like his heart is only slightly misaligned in his chest instead of miles away, but they are few.

Philza is broken.

And he doesn’t know how to fix himself.

(Truth telling part 1: The group encounters a villain who’s power compels the target to blurt out true things about themselves.)

Philza flies high into the skies on desperate wings, screaming his sins to the heavens and losing their sound to the howling wind. Tears pool under his goggles, and his back aches.

Techno leans against a stone wall, and feverishly mutters as many facts and benign opinions he can think of because facts count as truth enough that he can keep his secrets buried, even though it hurts his throat to hold them unsaid.

Tommy hides his face in the ground of a dark alley, crumpled to his knees. Sting has turned the voice changer in the mask off so his words stayed muffled behind the plastic. Still, they pour from him like a waterfall.

“My name is Tommy. I don’t actually have a last name. I don’t actually have middle names. I made them up. I came from a lab, and it blew up, and I survived and EVERYONE ELSE IS GONE!”

He slams his head down onto the pavement to try and stop the onslaught of words.

“I am the vigilante Red Riot.” The mask smashes into the ground “My guy in the chair is named Sting.” Again *slam!* “That not his real name, But he never told me his real name. He doesn’t tell me a lot of things because I might spill his secrets if I knew.” A fourth time he slams his head into the garbage soaked ground.

“I used to hate that he didn’t tell me things, but Sting, if you’re listening, I’m kinda rethinking my feelings on the matter.”

Tommy clenches at the ground, gritting his teeth, and keening as he tries to silence himself. The whine increases in pitch until it explodes into more words ripped from his mouth by the power that compels him.

“My power is invulnerability, and I’m being scoped out by the heroes.

The teen pushes himself to sit back against the alleyway wall, smacking the back of his skull against the brick though he’s pretty much given up on stopping the words.

“The heroes scoping me out are Daedalus, Blade, and Spectre, though Blade isn’t an official hero. They make me feel safe. I want to keep working with them, but I don’t want to join the heroes commission. I don’t know what I’m going to do at the end of the month when they need an answer.”

“I’m terrified of being smothered in the dark and not being able to breathe. I really want to stop talking right now. I want to stop talking. I want to stop talking! I WANT TO STOP TALKING!”

Tommy buries his head in his knees, and continues to mutter the same phrase as he rocks. The compulsion no longer feels like a bulldozer at his back, more like a really pushy person. He continues like this for… who know how long, until the power forcing his mouth has dwindled to no more than a whisper.

“I want to stop talking. I want to stop talking. I want… to stop… ”

No more words come.

“Red?” Sting’s worried voice sounds in his ears. “Is it done now?”

“Yeah...”

(Truth telling part 2: Spectre’s confession)

Spectre puts his hands over Tommy’s.

“I want to tell you this Red, because I trust you and this truth is tearing me up inside, and I need to get it out, or I might do something I’ll regret. I’m terrified you’ll hate me, but I still want to tell you. I need to tell somebody.”

Tommy freezes and lets his hand be taken away from his mask.

“I have a son.” Spectre says, and because he’s being compelled, he doesn’t pause to let Tommy properly absorb the information.

“I met a girl named Sally years ago before I started hero-ing. She was a beautiful scientist interning at the hero tower with red hair and silver scales. I would call her Sally the salmon just to bug her, like some grade school boy pulling on a girl’s pigtails. She and I ended up in a relationship until I- until she became pregnant, and she refused to give up the baby.”

“I didn’t- I didn’t stay with her. I had already debuted as a hero and I didn’t want to stop for anything, and I didn’t want to be a father, so I left her to raise the baby alone.”

Spectre chokes, hands flying to his throat.

“Alone. I let them alone. I left them alone. I left them all alone!”

Spectre slaps himself, resetting and continuing.

“I ignored them, Dad took care of them. Dad saw my son more than me. It took three years to for me to be in the same room as him. Sally would send me pictures before that. I didn’t want to look at them. Phil is the only reason I didn’t throw them out, and I’m so grateful.” The end of his sentence turns into a sob. “I don’t deserve him for a father. He made sure to send Sally money. He’s the one that got Fundy presents. He went to see them on holidays when I was out being so stupid. He was more of a father to my son than I ever was.”

Tommy finds himself oddly grateful that Spectre is leaving no opportunity for response.

“He finally convinced me to start coming for holidays… ” Spectre laughed. “ Holy- You should have seen how awkward it was that first time. Sally tried so hard to make it normal when she introduced us. My little champion looked at me like I was some creepy mall Santa they wanted him to take a picture with.”

Spectre’s talking slows. Words less of a thundering waterfall, and more of a stream.

“At some point, I don’t know what changed, but I wanted to be more involved in his life. I kept meaning to talk to Sally about it, but I kept putting it off. So easy to just,” Spectre flutters his fingers through the air. “let something distract me.”

Spectre stops. He’s silent as he searches for the next words.

“There was a lab accident. It was like a chunk of the building had just been deleted from existence. Sally wasn’t afraid to work on dangerous things, you see. Everything and everyone inside and around the lab was gone, and Sally… Sally took Fundy with her to work on the weekends.”

Backing away, Spectre crossed his arms.

“People speculated. Maybe there was a faulty weapon they were working on. Maybe there was an attack!”

Spectre spread both arms wide, flourishing his hands like a showman.

“Guess what? It was a dimensional rift! Someplace hot, with strange life and strange time where everything runs faster… They’re still trapped there, but they managed to get Fundy home.”

A wet sniffle.

“Now he’s nearly my age, and I’m the stranger who didn’t want him as a child, and the reason his mother cried while he was growing up. He wants nothing to do with me.”

Spectre looked down at the ground. “I don’t think I can ever fix it.”

Spectre remains silent after that and Tommy is speechless. He tries to think of something to say.

“I-uh-”

“We should back to the others.” Spectre interrupts, suddenly turning away and heading back to find Daedalus and Blade.

Tommy hesitates before following the flawed man.

“Sting.”

“...Yes?” the voice comes over the mask radio.

“you won’t...”

Sting sighs.

“I won’t do anything with the information Spectre just told us.”

Tommy nods his head.

“Good.”

(Truth telling part 3: defeating the bad guy)

“Maybe...Maybe I could gag myself and run at him?” Red Riot suggests.

Philza lets out a hiss of air behind his knuckles..

“It’s almost looking like our best optio-”

“-guys! Look!”

Their group turns to follow Wilbur’s finger, pointed to a lone figure running on the street below toward their target.

They’re hit by the same debilitating power that had sent everyone else scattering, but instead of running to find refuge, they continue to barrel forward with a scream.

“I DON’T HAVE BONES!” Is the war cry as they sock the villain square in the jaw.

It’s a unified blink of befuddlement the four of heros share: Wilbur, Philza, Red Riot, and even the normally unflappable Techno. The villain topples like a video game character whose health had hit zero, crumbling into heap of awkwardly fallen limbs.

When he doesn’t get up, Wilbur glances at the others.

It can’t be that easy.

There’s no way.

He hops over the roof edge to cautiously float down.

It feels wrong to get closer. His self preservation screams at him to go the opposite direction... To get away from the thing that pulled his shameful secrets forcefully through his teeth and made him bare the molding underbelly of his soul.

He descends so slowly and he hears Red Riot smack into the ground below before he has even made it halfway down. Philza and Techno are close behind.

“I would like to make it known that I do, in fact, have bones.” The green-toned man nervously assures them as they get close.

“Ooookay.”

“We believe you.” Techno says flatly.

(Sting finds out Clementine is a human girl)

So

…

you said

clementine was a moth

“She is!” Tommy protests. “She’s got the wings and everything, man.”

“You- I can’t… you-” Sting’s words stop and start. “You literally- Actually, you know what? I am too tired to deal with you right now. We are talking about this later. Goodnight.”

“Uh, goodnight.”

The call ends with a click.

“Did Sting hang up?” Clem asks, her hands resting on the side of the couch.

“Yeah.” Tommy confirms

(Related to the prev snippet. )

Tommy hesitates.

“Just to clarify, you guys know that Clementine is my daughter right?”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Riot. You’ve told us enough times.” Spectre sighs.

Tommy nods. “Okay, good.”

Hah! So, it wasn’t him. Sting was just being an idiot.

(Related to prev snippet part 2/Setting up future plot dominoes)

“Oy, Spectre.” Wilbur turned back to Red Riot. The vigilante motioned for the hero to come closer, and sparing a glance at the retreating back of the Blade, he stepped away from the roof edge.

The vigilante shuffled his feet a little. “I need to ask you something important, and it would mean a lot to me if you said yes.”

“Sure, what is it Red?”

“If something happens to me- I mean, not that it would, I’m the best vigilante this city has ever seen after all- but on the very tiny, minuscule, impossible chance something does…” Riot waved his hand through the air, before letting it fall to his side. “would you take care of Clementine for me?”

Wilbur’s expression was completely hidden by his mask. If it had been open to view, Red Riot would have seen a face of concern plummet into a half-lidded, unimpressed look.

“Clementine...”

“Yes.”

“You want me to take care of Clementine?”

“My daughter.” Red Riot stresses.

Wilbur sighs. “Riot, I really don’t think-”

“Look!” Red Riot hastens to explain. “I would ask Sting, I already tried asking Sting, But he literally can’t, you’re the only other person I feel comfortable asking to do this. I need someone who can look after her if I get in-ca-paci-tated, or whatever.”

Looking at Red, Wilbur doesn’t speak for a moment. He brings his hands together and taps the pointer fingers against his chin as he looks the hooded man up and down, trying to find the malicious joke hiding in the posture. But he’s can’t...

Maybe this isn’t a childish long running joke.

It’s very possible Red is just this attached to an insect.

“It really means this much to you?”

“Yes.”

Wilbur sighs.

All this for a moth.

“Alright. You can trust me with Clementine.”

(Tommy asks Philza for parenting advise and insults Spectre)

“And how important, would you say it is, to socialize children?”

“Oh, it’s very important for their development.” Daedalus responds, then with a mischievous twitch of his lips... “I hardly ever socialized Spectre, and you see how he turned out.”

“Yikes. I see.”

“Excuse me?”

“So what you’re saying is… if I want to avoid Clementine turning out like ghost boy, you suggest signing her up for school?”

“I think it’s a wise move, yeah.”

“I beg your pardon?!”

“Hush now, Spectre.” Tommy waves him off. “I am making big decisions regarding my daughter’s future.”

Spectre straightens up from where’s he’s floating. His posture of pure offense melts, something revelatory clicking into place.

“I am going to murder you.” Spectre says. “No, no. I’ve decided now. There’s no changing my mind. Dad, I am going to murder Red Riot.”

Daedalus sighs tiredly.

“Spectre!! Murder is illegal! Crowfather! Help me!”

“You did this, Red Riot!” Spectre yells as he chases the vigilante. “You started my villian arc!”

(Scene set after Tommy had just been talking with Dream. Tommy told Dream all about his powers, much to Sting’s chagrin)

“What… the F-” Sting’s mike peaked out at the spike in volume. “-K was that?!”

“Sting? Were you eavesdropping again?!”

Tommy’s communicator buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and realized Sting had already sent him more than a dozen messages.

He didn’t get the chance to read any of it before a new message popped on the screen.

YOU TOLD DREAM YOUR POWERS

“I had to pulled teeth to get you tell me anything, and you go and just give him a list?!” Sting hisses.

???

AND YOU TOLD HIM YOUR WEAKNESSES TO

WHAT WREE YOU THINKING???!!!

i TOLD YOU TO B CAREUFL AROUND HIM

“Dude, stop overreacting!”

“Overreacting?!” Sting screeched in his ears. “Excuse me?! Do you have any id-” The voice in his ear stopped abruptly, and furious typing sounds predicated more messages.

I need you to explain exactly why you thought it was a good idea

to tell dream everything you just did

Because you just gave him SO much info about yourself

“Because I trust him, duh.” Tommy scoffed. He picked at the edge of his sleeve, feeling both frustrated, and chastened. “Can’t I trust a man? Honestly, would you be this paranoid if I told Spectre?”

“I would think you were and idiot if you did, but no.”

dream is supr shady

you think he won’t use the info you gave him against you

?

Whirling from the rooftops edge, Tommy paced in agitation.

“Of course not!”

“Why.”

“Because-”

Tommy paused.

“Because...”

Because it just felt like he could trust Dream.

Normally that would a big if not the deciding factor for Tommy, heavily influenced by impulse as he was, but something… something wasn’t sitting right. The chill wind of the rooftop managed to catch the edge of the hood pulled over his head. It ruffled the fabric and managed to catch enough of an angle to curl to the back of his neck and make him shiver.

“Why… did I tell Dream?”

The communicator buzzes in his hands, but he’s too trapped in his thoughts to read it.

“I told him my weaknesses...”

He thinks back. He had been happy but cautious to see Dream when the man had first appeared on the roof.

“Dream asked me to tell him about my powers, and I felt like I could. But why?”

The desire to tell Dream, the more Tommy thought about it, the more he turned the feeling over in his mind, the more it felt like it wasn’t entirely his. His caution had… had evaporated, no, been forgotten?...Suppressed?

There was a distinct before and after in his mind when talking with Dream, but he’s not sure why the change had happened.

The communicator buzzed and Tommy looked down.

I don’t know Red

“But I have a theory.”

“Yeah?”

I think Dream has some sort of mind manipulation power

Oh “… Ya think?”

“Yeah.”

Which if that was true then...

“That son of a-”

(Flashback to Dream and Spectre’s past. Mind control powers have just been outlawed. This is a big blow to the both of them)

“They don’t appreciate us like they should.” Dream said quietly.

“They don’t.” Wilbur agreed darkly.

Spectre lifts his face from his hands.

“I want to raze this city.”

And Dream knew he meant the burning kind of raze from the sheer poison dripping off the words. Dream kept silent and weighed his options. Spectre was teetering precariously right now. With the barest of pushes Dream could send him into a violent spiral.

And he wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to.

It was so dichotomous. He didn’t want to harm any citizens, but at the same time Dream wanted the city to burn in retribution.

He huffed a short breath in lue of a sigh. But that would just make it even harder to overrule the new laws against mind control in the future. He had to think long term.

As delicate as the situation was, it looked like he wouldn’t need to talk the spectral hero down. Dream spotted a small black bird fly up from the side and circle around them, cawing in the harsh way of a crow. It’s soon joined by more corvids circling above and several that come to land on the roof.

Spectre grits his teeth and folds his arms down.

“I’ll leave you two to talk.” Dream says simply over the sharp bird calls.

Even more crows flock around Spectre and the dark shadow of Daedalus’s wings pass over Dream as he walks to the other end of the roof. Daedalus lands behind Spectre, and Dream can’t help but pause to watch the two.

“Spectre...” Daedalus’s voice is barely picked up through Dream’s earpiece. The shorter man reaches a hand for Spectre’s shoulder. Spectre roughly shrugs him off, but Daedalus persists. “Come on, look at me.”

Spectre reluctantly lets himself be turned around.

“It’s going to be okay. We’ll appeal as soon as we can.”

“And you think that’s going to do anything?!” Spectre explodes at him.

Dream can’t see his face, but the back of Daedalus is unmoved.

“I think it will… and it’s the best we can do for now. I’m sorry.”

The fists at Spectre’s sides tremble, and his lip wobbles before he collapses into Daedalus’ arms.

“I hate this city.” Spectre sobbed into the winged hero’s shoulder.

“Oh, no, Will. You love this city.”

“I don’t!”

Daedalus hushed the younger hero, stroking his hair as he shuddered in his arms.

‘I’m sorry’s and ‘it’s going to be okay’s accompanied his ministrations, and Dream found himself desperately wishing it were true. That things were going to be okay, even though right now, it certainly didn’t feel like it.

A loud ‘CAW’ startled Dream. Several sets of avian eyes glared at him, urging him away.

Right.

This was a private moment, and he wasn’t invited.

Without wasting another moment, Dream slipped from the roof.

(Part 1 of The author tried set up a plot point to get Tommy to swear less. It was unsuccessful)

“Tommy.” Clementine says, with the stone hard sobriety of a child on a mission. “We can’t swear anymore.”

“Wha-” Tommy has been hit by a car before. This is striking a similar feeling in him. “I’m sorry, Clem. Could you repeat that for me. I think I may have misheard you.”

“We can’t swear anymore.”

“Mmhm, mmhm, okay. And how exactly did we come to this conclusion?”

(Part 2)

“Ah! Shi-I mean… dang it.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” Sting immediately demanded.

Tommy hesitated answering for a fraction of a second, his heart stuttering at Sting referring to him as a best friend, even though he wasn’t sure how serious to take it.

“Sting, I have a new mortal nemesis.”

??

“How?”

Did you fight a villain in the ten seconds I was away?

“No, nothing like that. Her name is Anna the Anteater, and thanks to her I can’t ffffff-” Tommy is stalled out on the outlet of air “-ffffrrrricking swear anymore.”

What

“Clementine’s been watching this new kids show. Apparently curse words are ‘mean,’ can ‘hurt other people’s feelings,’ and as a hero it’s my duty to ‘set a good example.’”

Silence.

Silence long enough, that Tommy wonders if the communicator got disconnected.

Sting cackles in his ear.

“You’re-- you’re a-- you-”

The telltale sound of a keyboard clacking.

You’re a vigilante

“I tried to tell Clementine that! But she said, and I quote ‘but you became a vigilante to do good, right?’” Tommy scowls around

“Oh no! She-e -ahahaha!- She got you in the ego!”

Tommy grumbles at that. Burying his face in his hands, Sting is still laughing uncontrollably at him.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do, Sting. Swearing is like half of my personality.”

“Just swear when she’s not there.”

“I don’t know… I could never face Clementine if she found out.”

Sting’s huffing laughter took a full half minute to subside. The way he catches his breathe and quiets down leaves no doubt that he’s wiping tears from his eyes.

“I’m glad you find my suffering so funny.”

“Oh don’t be cross.” Sting replies, voice warm with mirth. “Here, I think I have a solution for you.”

The communicator lights up with a location highlighted.

(Part 3)

I’m gonna stop by the swearhouse on the way home.” Tommy said with giddy excitement.

“The what now?”

“The swearhouse. My swear-warehouse. It’s an abandon warehouse I go to to swear..” He looked at Spectre. “You wanna come?”

Spectre grins.

“Oh, absolutely.”

(Me: Maybe I can have Clementine encourage Tommy not to swear, so I don’t have to navigate around it so much in the story?

Tommy and Tubbo: lol swearhouse time baby)

(Spectre and Tommy share a quite moment… And Spectre tries to prank Blade)

Spectre held the paper cup out to him. A warm smell rose in white wisps from the small opening at the top.

“What is it?” Tommy asked tilting his head.

“It’s coffee.”

“Well, I figured that much.” He rolled his eyes. He wasn’t totally ignorant of the world. Running across the roof tops, he could remember a similar smell rising from the vents of various stores nearly every morning, just before the sun would come up.

“It’s black coffee.” Spectre elaborated, rocking the cup side to side. “A grown up drink for grown ups.”

Tommy scowled as he snatched the cup. Removing the lower part of his mask, he gave another experimental sniff. It had a burnt, maybe woody, smell, halfway between something pleasant and something he didn’t want to drink.

“Ah, yes. It sure is. My favorite. I drink this stuff every morning.”

“Uh huh.”

And because spite is one of his natural motivators, Tommy tilts the cup back and takes a large sip. The warm liquid washes over his tongue. He doesn’t gag, but he does pull a face before reluctantly swallowing the bitter liquid.

“I figured that might be the case.” Spectre snickers and plucks the cup from his hand. He hands him the other one. “Try this instead.”

“What’s this one? Poison?”

Spectre shrugs. “Well, if you’re too much of a baby to try it, I can always take it back.”

Tommy throws back and chugs the drink.

He makes it a halfway through before coming up for air, and only then does the taste register. That bitterness is still there, but it’s cut by a sweet, creamy taste. Tommy is finding he really likes it.

Tommy sniffs and looks at Spectre. “It’s alright.”

Spectre huffs and takes a drink of his nasty black coffee… through his mask somehow. “Whatever kid.”

“Not a kid!”

“Gremlin, then.”

Tommy huffed.

Spectre leaned back, his ghostly form reclining as if he were on a hill, instead of several feet overhanging the top of the roof. He settled the coffee on his stomach and looked away from the city lights to the overcast night above.

“I saved someone today.” He said.

“Mm? Good on you, big man.”

“They didn’t know I did it.”

“Oh? And that’s… Baaad?”

Spectre hums. Undecided, unsure. “They were a kid. There was a building burning near where I was doing… civilian stuff. Didn’t have my costume, still decided to go. The place was collapsing and this part of the roof nearly fell on them, but I stopped it. They didn’t even realize.”

“And?”

“I’ve been thinking about that question you asked me. If I would still be a hero even if nobody knew me for it, and I mean, if we are being truly honest, I don’t think so, but... Nobody even knew I was there today. I saved a kid, and there was no grateful citizens, no cameras, no interviews. The kid didn’t even know he was in danger… But it was the right thing to do.”

“Yeah?”

“And that was good. His mom, er, well… I’m assuming his mom, hugged him. A kid got to be hugged by his mother because of what I did. I saved him, and that was… good? That was good wasn’t it?”

“Yeah?”

Tommy is confused, but Spectre looks so lost. The slight way his floating body curls inward, he’s nearly in a fetal position.

“Yeah, man.” Tommy says again. “You did good today.”

Spectre nods.

They’re quiet with each other. Tommy surprisingly finds he doesn’t mind. Something about it is comfortable. He kicks his feet lazily and sips more from his drink.

The break in their peaceful moment is the sound of the rooftop door opening.

“Hullo.”

“Ah, Blade!” Spectre spins around from his reclined position. The change in energy levels is whiplash inducing. He has the sudden air of a showman and Tommy is reminded of the magician that once did tricks for the kids at the library.

Tommy gives a salute from where he’s seated. “’Ow do?”

“Good, good.” Blade responds before turning pointedly to Spectre. “Daedalus wanted me to say that if the sound system isn’t fixed by the time he gets back, he’s going to punt you to the moon.”

Spectre scoffs. “I’d like to see him try.”

“Your funeral.” Blade shrugs, then turns back to Tommy. “Ready to go?”

“Oh, wait just a second.” Tommy drains the rest of his cup and stands. “Now, I’m ready.” Tommy hands the empty cup to Spectre. “Thanks.” and happily trots after Blade.

“Wait...”

“Mmmm?” Tommy halts to look back at Spectre.

“Why are you so calm?”

“Mm?”

“This isn’t right. You’re calmer now than I’ve ever seen you.”

“So? So, what?”

“Huh,” Blade crosses his arms and does a ponderous tilt of his head. “You do seem less… wired. More even.”

“Ey? I feel just fine!”

“Yeah, but you just had 20 ounces of coffee. You should be hyper right now.” Spectre insists.

“Why?”

Blade shrugs a shoulder. “Caffeine wakes people up and makes ‘em jittery. Not always though... “ The skull mask tilts curiously the other way. “You wouldn’t happen to have ADHD would you?”

Tommy throws his hands in the air. “How should I know?”

Spectre is lost in contemplation til he snaps his fingers.

“Oh! That would make so much sense!”

Blade begins counting on his fingers. “Impulsivity, wandering focus, hyper focus...”

“Constant need to move around.” Spectre continued. “Oh, I would bet money.”

“Great, I’ll put down two dollars if you pay for the test.”

“Spot me the money for it and you’ve got a deal.”

“Ugh!” Tommy begins stalking away. “You both are being stupid. I’m leaving without you.”

Blade and Spectre watch him go.

------

Techno and Wilbur watch Red Riot stomp towards the patrol route.

“Wil?” The skull head turns oh so slowly from looking at Red Riot to staring at Wilbur. The flat line of his mouth oh so slowly curls in to a sharp smile. “The implication behind you giving Red caffeine right before I came is not lost on me.”

The intense aura bearing down on Wilbur makes him shrink. “...Mercy.”

Techno walks after Red Riot.

“Never heard of it.”

(Blade’s Retaliation to Spectre’s attempted prank)

Blade holds a packet out to him. Some kind of food, if Tommy had to guess, and he grabs it for a closer look.

Apparently, it’s something called… ‘Fun Dip?’

Tommy tears the top off. On one side of the packet is a white… stick? Pill? Stick-pill? And on the other is some sort of red powder.

“Did you just give me drugs?”

Blade steps back and shrugs.

“I mean, the kid equivalent, yeah. That in your hands is essentially pure sugar.”

“Is it gonna make me high?”

“If you mean a sugar high, then probably.”

“Yeeeeessss!”

“Spectre! Spectre, Spectre, SpectreSpectreSpectre!” Red Riot bounced after the spectral hero.

“Red!” Spectre responded in exasperation, moving over the edge of the building.

Red giggled, jumping onto the curb of the ledge.

“We’re gonna patrol tonight~” He sang, twirling about and briefly shaking out his arms.

“Yes, you gremlin, we are.”

Red seemed pleased at that. Reaching out to hold onto the floating hero, he leaned his weight over the edge. He wasn’t expecting Spectre to be intangible though, and shrieked briefly as his hands went through the arm he was trying to grab. He fell, pinwheeling off the building.

“Red!” Spectre and Blade screamed after him.

Red Riot came to land face down on the alleyway ground with a thud that would have killed a normal person.

If took a moment, but he raised a thumbs up to the topside heroes.

“I’m good!” He yelled from his sprawled position, and then he broke off into more giggles.

Spectre sighed in relief.

“And that,” Blade said, dusting off his hands and smirking “Is how you rile up a Red Riot. Have a nice time patrolling.”

(Dream tracks down Tommy to try and subtly get Red Riot out of Schlatt’s way. Things don’t go to plan)

“Don’t be like that. You want to help me, don’t you?”

Tommy could feel it again. Like a mist on his skin, on his mind, barely noticeable... he would have thought the agreement he felt was his own if he wasn’t looking for it, but now that he was aware, it was easy to see that it was foreign.

“Actually, I don’t.” He spat at the man.

That got a reaction. However minuscule it was.

“Yeah that’s right, green boy.” Tommy continued with smug anger. “Little less persuasive now aren’t ya? I know all about your stupid tricks.”

“Oh, is that right? And what do you know?”

“That you’ve got some weird illegal mind power that lets you get in peoples heads. And you’re all sneaky about it. Make them think the thoughts you give them are their own. But I’m all aware of it now, and it won’t work on me.”

“Hm.” Dream toned impassively. He trailed a hand over the kitchen island, carefully looking at the dinner prep as he moved around it. “Is that what you think, Red?”

Tommy scoffed. “Uh, yeah. I bet that’s how you got so high in the ranks, too. Just make the person your fighting want to lose. Just make people give you what you want. Do you even have any skills or did you just cheat your way to the top.”

That got a reaction, and not a minuscule one this time.

“I have earned my place. I can go toe to toe with the Blade, and I can do that without my powers. What are you without?” Dream said. His voice stayed level, but Tommy could hear the undercurrent of anger. Sore spot then.

“Not a stalker. Not a creep.” Tommy said, taking a step back. “How did you even find me?”

“...I have my ways.” Dream replied. He made his way around the island and to the dining table as he made his way back. He reached for Clementine’s plush moth that sat on the table.

“Don’t touch that!” Tommy snarled.

“Okay, okay. It’s fine. I won’t touch Clementine.” Dream held up his hands in surrender, not realizing that Clementine was in fact a real living breathing human girl, but unlike the other people in his life, Tommy had no intention of correcting Dream. “Look, I’m sorry, for showing up here, but I’m desperate. I really do need your help. Let’s try this again.”

There it was again. Tommy easily brushed off the wisps of suggestion.

“I don’t think so.” Tommy snarled. “I’ll only say it one more time. Get. Out. Or I will show you exactly how I deal with the nightly criminals.”

Dream held his palms up again, like he was dealing with an unreasonable customer.

“Now, co-”

Tommy shot across the distance between, and landed a punch on the stupid white mask.

It didn’t have the full impact he wanted, as Dream rolled back knocking into chairs, but he did manage to make a crack spread from the forehead to the cheek. Dream continued to roll from a somersault back to a standing position, poised to retaliate.

Tommy laughed, and opened his arms wide.

“Do it! I dare you. Break your fist on my face.”

Dream moved a bit to put the kitchen island between him and Tommy.

“So, there’s really no way we can talk this out peacefully?”

“No! I want nothing to do with you.”

Dream sighed, moving from his semi crouched position back to a standing posture.

“Shame.” He said, bringing a hand to run over the crack Tommy had left on his mask.

“Yeah, now that I broke your stupid power amplifier.”

Dream shifted the hand to grip over the face plate. Something clicked under the material and Tommy was baffled to see that he was lowering the mask.

“Suppressant, actually.” Dream said, staring with impossibly green eyes peaking over the edges.

If listening to the voice was like feeling a mist over the skin, then looking at the eyes was like getting submerged.

(Clementine hides while Tommy fights Dream)

Clementine watched the whole exchange, low to the ground and overlaid with fabric, with from her hiding place. Tommy told her not to make any noise, and she was trying so hard, but it was hot and hard to breathe, and she tried to make her breathing quiet, but that made her start to shake. She was scared. Her wings trembled slightly, and she gripped the blankets beneath her.

Be brave. Be brave. Be brave.

Be brave like Tommy. And Daedalus. And Merling. And Blade.

She thought she was doing well. The man in the white mask wasn’t going away and it made her nervious, but then Tommy had punched the man and she gripped the blankets in a flinch.

‘Be brave.’ She told herself again, letting her nose run because sniffling would mean making noise.

The fighting turned into a standoff. The man moved to the kitchen. It was hard to see him with the counter in the way, but Tommy’s shoulders suddenly relaxed.

The man in the mask sighed. Moving from behind the counter, Clementine could see him again.

“I didn’t want to have to do that. You really made this more difficult than it needed to be.”

Tommy didn’t say anything to that.

Did that mean they were done?

“Come on, now. Let’s go.”

Tommy made to step forward, but stopped short.

“I can’t…”

The man in the mask stared at Tommy for a moment.

“Huh, surprisingly chatty... Why can’t you?”

“I need to stay...”

The man in the mask sighed irritably. “No, you don’t. You want to come with me.”

Tommy, paused as if processing the words.

“Yes, Dream.”

Clementine watched with panic gripping fiercely at her stomach as Tommy began to step away. He followed Dream out the door, though they paused at the threshold.

“Say goodbye to Clementine.” The man in the mask said airily.

Dutifully, Tommy turned back around, staring with empty eyes at the spot Clementine was hiding.

“Good-bye, Clementine.”

Then, the door was closed.

Retreating footsteps grew faint.

Silence hung heavy in the air.

The blankets felt like they were trying to suffocate her.

Clementine burst into sobs.

(Clementine is brave)

‘If something happens to me, I want you to call Spectre. He’ll take care of you.’

Clementine grabbed one of the overturned chairs and dragged it to the kitchen. After getting it to the drawer she attempted to climb up, but her limbs shook so bad she immediately sank to the ground instead. She curled up in a miserable trembling ball at the base of the chair and cried, ever aware that the longer it took her, the farther the masked man took Tommy away.

Was it already too late? Clem bunched her hands tightly. She didn’t even have a phone, she couldn’t call Sting for help. The communicator was with Tommy, and he was… he... Clementine bit the palm of her hand.

The phone booth across the street sprung to mind.

Forcing herself to stand, Clementine went to the living room. There on the shelf, she took down the porcelain piggy bank that sat next to the broken action figure and set of library books they had yet to return. She turned it over and her fingers scraped for purchase on the plastic plugged that sat in its tummy. She pulled with the ends of her fingers, even as they hurt and her face scrunched up in unrewarded effort.

The tips of her fingers slipped, and she keened briefly before making a decision.

“I’m-m s-sorry, Jo.” Clementine told the pig.

Then holding it high above her head she brought the porcelain pig down to shatter on the floor, its contents spreading over the ground.

She snatched as many big coins a she could fit into one little hand, and then ran back over to the chair in the kitchen. She wasn’t shaking as bad this time and made it onto the chair. Rifling through the junk drawer, she found the folded slip of paper with the unicorn sticker on it.

Clem realized, as she stepped through their apartment door, that she had never left the building without Tommy.

The hallways seemed so much bigger and so much darker without another person beside her. It was scary, the line of evenly spaced doors she ran passed. It was home, and yet without Tommy to hold her hand, another layer of fear had her struggling to take in air as she burst from the apartment building and rushed to the payphone.

She eventually managed to close the folded glass door of the box, muffling the noise of the streets, and allowing her to catch her gasping breath.

Leaving her handful of coins in a pile on the metal ledge beneath the actual phone, she opened the paper bunched in her hands. There was the list of numbers, and names she couldn’t read. But she could recognize the letters.

Clementine took in a shaky gulp of air.

She needed Spectre.

Ssssss. Starts with an ‘S.’ S was a squiggle line.

There was two words that started with ‘s.’

The first...

Sss

Tuh

Ee

Nn

Guh

Ss-tuh-ee-nn-guh

s-t-i-n-g

Sting!

Clementine’s lip trembled. She wanted to call Sting. She wanted to hear his voice so bad. She looked at the pile of coins that she didn’t know the value of, then back to the telephone she hadn’t used before.

‘Sting, won’t be able to help in the way that Spectre can.’ Tommy’s voice echoed in her head.

Clem sniffled, and moved down the list.

Sss

Puh

Eh

Cuh

Tuh

Err

Eh

Ss-puh-eh-cuh-teh-err

Spectre.

Clementine reached on her tip toes, she could grab the funny shaped phone on the chord, but was still much too short to reach the coin slot up top.

She let out a sound of frustration, and her wings fluttered.

‘Be brave.’ She told herself.

Her wings began to beat. Slow at first, but then fast, she rose from the ground, but quickly veered into the wall over the mental counter with her little control. Her hands scrambled to grab onto the phone box, and she kicked some of her coins on the floor.

But she had made it.

The voice of the nice man who had showed her and Tommy how to use the payphone echoed in her memories.

‘put the coins in somewhere at the top, yeah, right where that slot is.’

Clementine put every coin she had on the counter into the opening. They clanked as they fell into the box.

‘grab the phone.’

She held the phone that was attached to a chord and shaped like the call icon on the communicator.

‘and just put in the number you want to call.’

(Wilbur gets a call. Techno takes it)

Wilbur’s communicator began to buzz, which was very unfortunate, because he was currently trying to avoid getting his face pummeled by a villain who had locked himself in a core testing room.

Grabbing the burly arm of his assailant and throwing him off balance, Wilbur moved his face in a wince and then held up a finger to signal for a pause.

“Excuse me for one moment.”

The villian tried to throw another punch the second he turned around, (how rude) but Wilbur was already phasing through the wall.

On the other side he found Techno leaning casually.

“You got the door open yet?” He asked.

“Not yet. Take this for me will you?” Wilbur responded, tossing the buzzing communicator to the vigilante.

Techno startled, but caught the device, smoothly hitting the ‘accept call’ button in the same motion.

“Hello?” He greeted in monotone.

“H-h-hello,”A very shaky, very young voice responded over the line. “Spectre?”

Oh, Techno was not good with these kinds of things. He turned to grab for Wilbur, but the hero had already phased back through the walls. Techno gently knocked his fist against the metal before sighing.

“Not quite, kid. What do you need?”

It’s like a flood spills over the speaker.

“I need Spectre! The m-masked man took Tommy! Tommy told me to hi-ide, so I did, but then he w-went with the him, and they were fi-fighting, and I don’t know why, and I don’t have the com-com-comunicator-r, an Tommy said to c-call S-spectre, and the masked man took him, and I don’t kn-know w-what to do!”

“Whoa, whoa. Calm down kid, deep breathes… right?... just keep breathing. Follow my voice, slower, even, in… out… in… Good, good. you’re doing good.”

The shuddering breathes on the other side evened out slightly, but stayed loud.

“Are you somewhere safe?”

“I… I don’t know!”

“You said, the masked man took Tommy? Do you know where he took him?” Techno asked, while kicking the wall twice to get Wilbur’s attention.

“No-o.” Oh no, more tears.

“Hey, hey. You’re doing good. I need you to answer some more questions.”

“O-o-k-kay.”

“Do you know why the masked man took Tommy?”

Wilbur phased through the wall, just as Techno finished the last half of his question. Techno looked at Wilbur and tilted his head as if to ask, ‘Who the heck is Tommy?’ Wilbur shrugged back and shook his head.

“No.”

“Are you there with anyone?”

“N-no. It’s just m-me.”

“Where are you? Can you describe the location?”

“I’m-m outside the apartment building…”

Techno looked to Wilbur again, and Wilbur waved at him to go. He nodded, and gave the other man the communicator that was clipped to his belt.

“Okay, good. Is there anything else around you? Any stores... landmarks?”

Techno pointed at Wilbur. Jabbing his index finger in his direction, ‘stay safe,’ the gesture said. Wilbur gave him a co*cky salute in response and slipped through the walls.

“I’m in-n a phone booth. The- the library! The library is four streets away! We have to go through three lights to get to it!”

(Techno finds the kid and realizes something)

Techno isn’t made for children. His outfit certainly wasn’t designed with them in mind either as he had to turn his head to the side when picking the crying girl up. With further trepidation and exasperation, he was acutely aware that should he need to pivot his head more than 30 degrees to the right, he’d be slamming the boar skull of his mask into the her face.

That probably wouldn’t help the situation.

Technoblade looked at the child in his arms… at the antennae and moth like wings coming from her back... as chat erupted into a cacophony of screaming excitement.

“Is… your name Clementine?”

The little girl nodded and rubbed at her eyes as a fresh wave of tears overtook her.

Oh. That…

That was not good.

(Tommy is so bored he keeps forgetting what he’s been ordered to do)

Tommy, watched the commercials on the t.v. and ran his fingers over the couch arm rest.

The fabric was clean but worn, a striped pattern.

He picked at the stray threads that poked out of the edge and looked back up to see the show he was watching come back on.

He honestly wasn’t entirely sure what was going on.

He hadn’t been very interested at the start, which meant that he hadn’t paid much attention, which meant he wasn’t quite sure what was happening, which of course meant he had no interest in what it was showing now.

His eyes drifted to the side, and the boring white walls.

There was a bit of dust in the corner, but otherwise, it was pretty clean.

Tommy’s own house wasn’t this clean.

The corners had quite a bit of dust and debris that ought to be fairly easy to sweep up.

He hated the last bit of sweeping though, where you had to try and get it all into a dust pan.

Getting a vacuum would probably make things easier.

Maybe he could ask Sting about getting one later…

What all could you suck up with a vacuum?

Could you suck up grapes?

Tommy wouldn’t know, he’d never used one before.

There were grapes in the fridge that were going to go bad soon.

They really needed to eat those tomorrow.

He could get them out with Clementine’s breakfast.

Did Clementine finish her homework yet?

He remembered seeing it on the table…

Where was Clementine?

Tommy hadn’t finished making dinner.

Clementine was probably hungry.

He needed to find her.

Tommy stood up from the couch.

He walked over to the shut door and wiggled the knob.

Tommy frowned. Why was the door locked on him?

He tried again.

His mind felt kinda fuzzy, but with his rising confusion, he was becoming more awake.

He tried the doorknob again, but this time it turned under his hand and opened without his input. On the other side was Dream.

“What do you want, Tommy?” Dream asked.

Tommy blinked.

“I need to get Clementine dinner.” He answered.

Dream sighed in aggravation.

“Forget about Clementine, and go back to watching T.V.”

Tommy stared, eyes unfocusing, before turning back around to sit on the couch.

“Isn’t that the second time you’ve had to tell him to go back?” Punz asked from where he was leaning against the wall.

“Third.”

(Little Ranboo and Tommy moment while Tommy is under Dream’s control)

Ranboo tilted his head.

“Hello, Red Riot.” He said as way of greeting.

“Hello.”

“I’ve brought you dinner.”

“Oh yeah!” Riot smiled, hazy in the eyes. “Food.”

Ranboo handed off the tray. Riot laid it on his lap and then brought the steaming bowl of mushroom soup up. He inhaled appreciatively and slowly started to spoon the liquid into his mouth. Ranboo tilted his head the other way.

It was like watching someone caught between sleep and wakefulness having their first meal of the day. It was notable, Ranboo thought, and curious, how differently Dream’s power was affecting Riot.

When Dream had first used his power on Ranboo, it had been like a cool blanket had been wrapped around his jack-hammering heart. He still felt entirely like himself, but his anxiety and fears had been quieted. Dream’s power still had a similar feeling to him now, but it was more surgical, parts of Ranboo cut apart and hidden away from his own psyche. But that was still different from whatever stupor Riot was in.

“Are ya just gonna watch me eat?”

Ranboo blinked.

“I’ve already eaten.”

“Mhmm, mhmm.” Riot nodded. “That’s fine. You can still join me if you want.” He patted the seat next to him on the couch. “Just stop your staring.”

Ranboo considered. He didn’t have anything else he need to do in the meantime.

“Okay.”

He perched himself beside the vigilante, who sipped contentedly on his soup.

(Tommy won’t stop asking about Clementine. So Dream asks Punz to go get her. Punz comes back with ‘Clementine’)

Dream looked up and saw Punz limp into his office. Cut and bruised, the man slammed his mask on the table. Contrastly, he calmly and steadily handed the stuffed moth over to his employer.

“What in the world happened to you?”

“The Blade. Apparently, this is a very important moth.”

Dream froze.

“Why was The Blade after this thing.”

“Not a clue.” Puntz grunted.

Dream gripped the stuffed animal. Looks like he had some questions for Red Riot.

Dream slowly got up and went to the locked room he was keeping the meddlesome vigilante in.

“Here Tommy, I brought Clementine.”

Tommy perked up from his dazed state. He looked around Dream, smiling but quickly descending into confusion as he looked this way and that, ignoring the stuffed animal the man carried.

Dream held the moth out to Tommy, who took it, frowning at the fabric creature.

“Where’s Clementine?” Tommy asked.

“Aren’t you holding her?”

“No.” Tommy shook his head. “This isn’t Clementine.”

Dream’s blood ran cold.

“What is it then?”

“This is Clementine’s moth. I made it for her. She calls it Rutherford.”

“...Where is Clementine?”

Tommy contemplated.

“I don’t know. Maybe at home. Maybe with Spectre.”

“Why would Spectre have her?”

“I told her to call him if something happened to me.”

“Tommy, look at me. How could Clementine call Spectre?”

“With my communicator… hmmmm no. Cause I had it, didn’t I?”

“I thought. Clementine. Was. A moth.”

“She is.”

“Like the insect?”

“Oh, no. Like a human-moth hybrid.” Tommy laughed.

Dream felt the urge to murder the kid spike exponentially.

(Ranboo meets Micheal.)

The young boy turned around, and Ranboo’s stomach lurched violently seeing the exposed bone of the face. He nearly missed the tattered rag the boy held. It was wetted at one end, probably using water from the can that was positioned under the dripping bent pipe in the back.

The boy approached him and put the rag on his face. The water was frigid against Ranboo’s chin. He wasn’t quite sure what the purpose was for until he realized that the boy was wiping at the dark spots that sat on the right side of face.

Ranboo watched one half of the kid’s face furrow in confusion. The rag was lifted to his cheek as the boy instead tried to wipe off the light splotches of white on the other side of his face.

“Are you trying to clean me up?” Ranboo inquired of them.

The kid stopped the movement of his arm and hesitantly nodded.

Ranboo laughed softly.

“Thank you, but, uh… but those marks don’t come off. It’s just how my skin is. I’m, uh… half and half.” Ranboo explained, bringing his hand up to show the cleaved colors. He trailed the fingers over skin as if to demonstrate how they wouldn’t move.

Tilting his head, the kid touched the skin in the same spot. He wiped away the dirt on the area with the freezing cold rag and once again ran his fingers over the clean skin. He seemed entranced. Looking up, the boy studied Ranboo’s face, eye shifting back and forth on his face.

Tentatively, the boy reached up. Ranboo let him touch the bridge of his nose and trail the separating edge of his face. The boy was reverent as he pulled back, ghosting his hand over the bare skull side of his face.

“Yeah.” Ranboo said, mouth half quirked, both nauseated, and heart warmed. “We’re kinda similar. You’re half n’ half too...”

The kid didn’t say anything. Ranboo suspected he wouldn’t be hearing the kid talk any time soon... if ever... but he still felt his nerves rise in the silence. Realistically, he knew the lack of response wasn’t anything judgmental, but still, the urge to fill in the silence puppeted him.

“We can be like- half n’ half bros!” Ranboo exclaimed while sequentially tapping both sides of his face.

He wanted to face palm he felt so lame, but beyond his comprehension, the boy’s mouth fell open, as if Ranboo had just handed him the greatest gift in the world. He mimicked Ranboo’s face tapping.

“Y-yeah.” Ranboo acknowledged. Tapping his face again.

(Ranboo makes Micheal a promise)

“I am going to get you out of here.” Ranboo promised solemnly. “And I am going to show you burgers, and pizza, and spaghetti, and… and all manner of good food that tastes good. Peaches, oranges, probably get some apples in there. Carrots...There’s an entire culinary world out there to explore. You’re going to love it.”

The kid exhales though his nose in acknowledgment.

(Schlatt is arrested)

“Wait!” Tubbo yelled. He grabbed at the chain around his neck and held out the necklace to the Warden. “This contains files from the past nine years of Schlatt’s illegal activities. It will have evidence-”

“What are you doing?!” Schlatt yells.

“-of his various crimes, and well as those of his known associates, and where he’s been keeping weapons-”

“Tubbo!” The force is keeping from Schlatt from running over and strangling Tubbo, but they’ve stopped trying to get him in the car.

“-offshore accounts, and kidnapped persons. Captain Broug can’t be allowed near Schlatt. You’ll find evidence of his corruption in the files on this drive.-”

“TUBBO!”

The Warden is bringing up his hand to slowly to grab the memory stick from Tubbo’s hands, and Tubbo can’t help but feel slightly displaced from his own body.

“-I will send the another copy of the files to you electronically, within the hour, and what paper copies I have in the next couple days-”

Schlatt has stopped screaming.

“-to make sure nothing gets modified, and believe me I will be checking.”

The Warden raises his eyebrows at that.

“This is unexpected.”

Tubbo glances at Schlatt, who regards him with silent scrutiny.

“You’ve been against me this whole time.” Schlatt says in revelation.

Jutting his chin at the man, Tubbo straightens higher.

“Since, fourteen.”

Schlatt’s eye’s widen with the information. He levels his gaze at his son with a burning strength. The hands restraining him are beginning to pull him back, but the half seconds burn into Tubbo’s memory. The final moments Tubbo will see Schlatt in the clear air and sunlight. The crumpled suit of his father, hanging off his shoulders in a messy way Tubbo had never seen before.

“Traitor child.” The words are spoken in quiet intensity, though lacking the vitriol Tubbo had expected to hear.

If Tubbo didn’t know better, he might have said that Schlatt looked proud.

(The reveal that Tommy is still under Dreams control… I know this one is very short, but I’m keeping it in anyway)

“Hello?” Wilbur greeted.

“Red’s a Manchurian Agent!” Techno’s frantic voice said through the com before it cut off with a click.

(Prior to this scene Dream just barely escaped from the heroes who are still hot on his trail. He tried to convince Ranboo to let him go. Ranboo refused and gets a moment of cathartic yelling instead.)

“It’s funny.” Dream spat at him. “You told me once that you’d forgive me if you were ever free. Guess that was a lie.”

Reactive guilt pools in his heart, but it nearly all evaporates as indignation flames in his chest.

“Did I miss something? Cause nowhere- absolutely nowhere- can I recall you saying ‘sorry.’”

Ranboo took a step forward.

“When did you apologize for the 5 years of my life you stole?!”

He threw the remote in his hand and the casing shattered as it hit the floor.

“When did you ever ask for my forgiveness!?”

(After Dream is defeated, the day is saved, and everything has calmed down… Wilbur talks to his Dad about adopting Tommy and Clementine)

“C’mon, Phil...” Wilbur entreated.

Philza sighs tiredly, but fondly. “Would you like to live with us?”

“Yes! I mean… Alright.” Tommy agreed with a bravado he hadn’t had before. “But, before I actually agree to this mad plan, I have some… some stipulations. You have to also agree to take in Tubbo with Clementine and me. We are a package deal! I would bet that Schlatt’s friends will be having it out for Tubbo, now that he’s taken down most of the lot of ‘em. He needs protection.”

“And if you want me, you need to take in Ranboo too.” Tubbo said surely.

“And, I’m kinda taking care of Michel now.” Ranboo said, looking down to the young boy in his arms.

Phil looked down to Michel who returned the looked back neutrally before holding the frog in his hands up to the older man in expectation.

“Okay.” Phil sighed quietly to himself. “That’s just three teens, two children and a frog.”

Wilbur grinned at him. Phil placed his hands on his hips. “Okay, I guess it’s no choice at all. Welcome to the family everyone.”

(the Ending scene)

“Hey, Tommy?”

“Yes, Clementine?”

“Phil can grow facial hair, right?”

“Yeeees?”

“Do you think Phil would like Kristen?” Clementine asked. Her tone was in that innocent scheming way she had.

Tommy felt his lips slowly fill into a smile. “You know Clem, I think you’re onto something quite good there.”