Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy is so fucking done.

He is currently running down the streets of L’manberg at 11 pm to escape some especially angry foster parents. Tommy’s such a big man, though, so he easily loses them in the backstreets where he grew up. Well, where he grew up before being taken into foster care.

Now you may ask, why was Tommy running from his foster parents at 11 pm? Well, he’ll have you know it wasn’t even his fault, the foster parents just couldn’t handle his sheer manliness.

Ok, maybe it was slightly his fault, but the fosters were really shitty people so he had no respect for them. They had all these rules and a fucking 4 pm curfew—I mean, who the hell is back home by 4 pm?

Not that he could even go out with all the chores he’d been asked to do. Sure, he expected to pull his own weight in the house but they were treating him like a maid, and big man Tommy wasn’t about to take that shit from no one. So, obviously, he decided to ignore them and to go for a walk instead.

He walked around and admired the surrounding complexes’ flowers then stole an ice cream bar from a 7/11 down the block. The cool dessert helped battle the heat of the day and without thinking Tommy found himself at the park watching some kids feed the ducks.

The kids squealed in delight when their bread was eaten and they dragged their parents to come and look. The parents looked at them fondly with a fierce protectiveness as their kids tugged them around incessantly rambling about anything and everything.

Tommy envied them. He envied the way the kids were allowed to be kids. The way the parents fiercely watched them to make sure they were safe and happy. He wished he could have people like that; people who would never spill his secrets and would protect him with their life as he would do the same (he ignored the traitorous part of his brain that reminded him he used to have people like that and that they were torn away from him, probably doing much better now).

He wished he could be a kid, without a care in the world, tugging along happy parents and feeding the ducks. He wished he could spend time rambling about his interests or nothing at all, and laughing with ease, not constantly watching his back.

He wished—no, Tommy was a big man, not a child. He doesn't want to spend time feeding the fucking ducks, he has money to make and women to get. He doesn’t wish for a stupid fucking family.

He looks away from the ducks and children. No use wishing for what he can’t have (reminiscing what he did have; what he missed so dearly yet knew he can’t have if he wants his loved ones to be happy).

Of course, there was always that small hope that he would find the right family. One that would accept him for who he is and not what he’s not, but he pushed that thought away. He’s almost aged out of the system and is a problematic flight risk, no one wants him.

Eventually, Tommy went back to his shitty foster house, past his curfew I might add. His foster parents decided to beat him when they realized what he’d done—the audacity—and even managed to land a few good punches.

However, Tommy, being the big man he is, said fuck that and got the hell out of there using his absolutely amazing skills. He simply jumped out the window with his pre-packed bag and flipped the family off as he started to run.

Now that leads us here: in a dingy alleyway where Tommy needs to call his social worker, Puffy. He sniffs as the adrenaline wears off from his run and takes out his shoddy phone.

“Puffy! My friend! How are you doing on this fine evening?” he says in a mock voice of confidence once she picks up.

“Tommy, what happened?” she replies with a voice full of concern. He winces at her tone but quickly regains his boisterous demeanor.

“What do you mean, Captain? What ever could I, a big man, ever want from you?” he gawks.

“Where are you?” Puffy sighs, she somehow always knows when somethings up with Tommy.

He tells her the address of the crumbling building he’s hiding by and quickly makes work checking himself for any plants—yes plants—growing off of him that may have sprouted accidentally. You see, Tommy is a powered folk and no one really knows, except a few close friends, and he intends to keep it that way.

Powered people are obviously much more dangerous than the common civilian considering they have, well, powers. One’s power can range from making oneself glow to shifting the confines of reality and these powers usually emerge before the age of 16.

Tommy himself has the power to control plants, particularly flowers which are his favorite. He can grow them right out of his hands and hair, making him look stunning if you were to ask him.

Sadly, he can’t walk around sprouting poppies out of his hair in a makeshift crown or else the government could take him away (again). Especially considering he can use his plants as a weapon, controlling them to attack people or even poison them.

Tommy’s powers emerged when he lived on the streets, at the ripe age of 5. He is 16 now and is pretty good at controlling his powers; using them to attack people, produce healing remedies, or just as decorations. He usually has his powers under control but they can come out accidentally when he feels strong emotions, which has never happened in front of people, thankfully (he ignores the reminder of too-white walls, the smell of sterilizer, and unkind hands he had to take comfort in).

He looks around for a second, locking eyes with a raccoon digging through a nearby dumpster. It’s beady eyes glisten in the dark and make Tommy realize just how shit the alleyway he’s in is.

There’s garbage strewn everywhere and bits of concrete and glass on the floor making it look like a tornado just hit. The more he looks the eerier the place gets, so he elects to just go back to checking himself as the little beast looks away as well, going back to dumpster diving.

He finishes checking himself just in time as he hears Puffy’s car pull up on the road (he wants to tell her, really, but he can’t trust her to not be associated with the government being a social worker and all). He happily hops in the beat up van he’s so familiar with and props his feet up on the dash. He stops when he sees Puffy’s expression, though.

“What? Can’t a big man fucking relax for once?” he jested, hoping to get rid of her horrified expression. “Ok, I’m sorry for putting my feet-” he started again but Puffy cut him off.

“Tommy, what happened to you?”

Tommy then took a minute to assess himself in the rear-view mirror, only now noticing the dull ache all over his body. The mirror showed a particularly bad bruise over his eye, almost entirely black. Comparing the pain of it to the rest his body made him almost certain his ribs were much worse off.

These weren’t the worst injuries he’d ever gotten from a home, but it was one of the more visibly terrible ones. The rest were usually easily covered up by his clothes or concealer. He usually got to cover them before Puffy saw, though.

Tommy took a deep breath, only wincing slightly. He hopes this means those foster parents didn’t break his ribs and he doesn’t have to go to the hospital. He hates hospitals and their stupid fucking white rooms (it reminds him too much of a place filled with needles, his heart pounding in his ears, struggling against his restraints trying to find purchase).

Actually, now that he has light to look at himself, he looks like shit. His ankle is throbbing and it turns out, in hindsight, jumping out a window isn’t that great of an idea, but it did make him look fucking cool so that’s that.

“Where to now, Captain?” he asked, “Back to the shitty group home?”

“Not exactly…”

“What? Where the fuck am I going then?”

“You’re going to an emergency placement house. The guy is a friend of mine and he’s specialized in dealing with children deemed to be flight risks or problematic.” Tommy scowls at her words, he knows those labels all too well since he himself is a ‘problematic’ ‘flight risk’. His last home being a prime example of this.

Puffy had the nerve to look sheepish, sending Tommy to a new foster home with no warning! He glared at her hoping to convey his feeling of utter hatred to her and she seemed to get the memo.

“Don’t worry, he’s a friend of mine and he’s really nice. He even adopted a pair of problematic twins he fostered a couple years back!” Puffy assured.

Tommy sighed, but knew it really wasn’t Puffy’s fault, she was just doing her job. He was, however, planning to piss these people off, showing the higher-ups that this big man couldn’t be tamed by anyone, experience or not. He smiled at the thought as he began drifting off with his head laid on the cool car window.

“You have all your things? Or do we have to go back?” Puffy’s words snapped Tommy out of his stupor. He nodded sleepily and she smiled in return letting him get a light nap on their way to his new home.

He awoke to Puffy gently shaking his shoulders and belatedly realized that they had arrived at the home. A grimace graced his lips as he got out of the car and stretched, his back cracking.

Taking a survey of his surroundings he noticed the wooden house in front of him had two stories, a small garden, and overall looked very homely. Tommy wondered what kind of people lived here, he hoped it would be the lesser of two evils.

Puffy rested a grounding hand on his back and led him up to the front door. She knocked gently and they heard a muffled ‘coming!’ from the inside of the house followed by a pair of footsteps heading their way.

His heart starts to pound in his ears and his grip on his red backpack tightens. Puffy squeezes his shoulder reassuringly as the door creaks open, and standing there is a tall-ass motherfucker.

“Why is there a fucking child at our door?!”

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Chapter Text

“I’m not a fucking child!” Tommy snaps back instinctively, tensing up.

“Are you sure? You look like a child to me.” the tall brunette taunts, a smirk evident on his face.

“You-“

“Wilbur, enough.” a new voice from inside cuts in. It’s an older looking man, though he is noticeably shorter than both Tommy and the tall-ass, presumably Wilbur. The man has a kind smile and shoulder-length blond hair, not unlike Tommy’s own.

His eyes are a lighter shade of blue, however. Tommy’s being an electric blue while the man’s is a more stormy color. Tommy wonders how long his kind smile will last when he starts to stir up shit.

“Hello, Phil!” Puffy chirps from beside him, making Tommy flinch a bit. She sends him an apologetic glance, but quickly turns her attention back to Phil.

“Cara! This is the new one then, mate?”

“Yep, fits in with your track record n’ all.”

Tommy notices they’re on a first name basis, as seemingly old friends, as he tunes out the rest of their pleasantries, Puffy’s hand never leaving his shoulder. He glances over at Wilbur and sees the fucker is sending him a smug grin.

“Hello child, I’m Wilbur!” he sing-songs in his strangely melodic voice.

“Not a fucking child.” Tommy snaps back.

The adults stop talking to look at them and Tommy waits for Phil to reprimand him for cussing at his son, but he gets nothing but a kind and slightly apologetic smile. Fucking weirdo.

“Wilbur, stop trying to provoke him.” Phil chastises lightly, though there is no true bite to his words and Wilbur just sends him a petulant look in response.

“This is Tommy! I expect you know the drill by now, so I’ll just leave him to you.” Puffy announces, removing her hand from Tommy’s shoulder.

“Wha- that’s it?” Tommy sputters as Puffy starts walking back to her car, waving goodbye at them.

“Yep! Be nice Tommy, I gotta go catch some sleep after the little stunt you pulled tonight.” she replies and even though she’s not truly mad at him Tommy still looks away guiltily.

Tommy then turns back to Phil, who’s kind smile has remained unwavering throughout the whole interaction. Wilbur sends him a cheeky grin that makes Tommy scowl, and gestures for him to step into the threshold.

“As I’m sure you’ve picked up, I’m Phil and this is my son Wilbur.” the man introduces.

“I adopted him and his twin brother, Technoblade, after fostering them a couple years back. Their situation was very similar to yours actually.” he continued, Tommy wondering what kind of fucking name Technoblade is, but it’s not like he hasn’t heard weirder.

“Cool, big man.” Tommy says absently in response, making Phil blink at the nickname, Wilbur already having left them to go smoke weed or something, he honestly looked like a stoner to Tommy.

“Alright, I’ll show you to your room since it’s late and in the morning I can give you a full house tour and properly introduce you to my boys.”

Phil begins to walk up the stairs, indicating for Tommy to follow. Glancing around, Tommy notices the sheer amount of fucking photos these people have hanging on their walls. He spots a third common person he hasn’t met yet in the photos and assumes that’s Technoblade, despite it being a bitch with long pink hair.

He begins reading some of the captions and finds out Wilbur is into music and Technoblade is a fencing champion. Tommy’s almost positive that when Phil’s demeanor cracks, he’ll sic Technoblade on Tommy as a form of punishment.

Speaking of the man, Phil is still talking absently, unperturbed by Tommy's lack of answers, though Tommy has already tuned him out long ago. He tunes back in as they begin walking down the hallway of the second floor, knowing his bedroom will probably be around here.

“-the bathroom’s down the hall from your room and you’ll be sharing it with the other two. There’s a basket of hygiene stuff for you in the cabinet under the sink, so feel free to use any of the stuff there. Oh, and here’s your room! It’s a bit bland since we don't know what you like, but we can go shopping over the weekend so you can decorate as you see fit as well as get you some clothes and school supplies.”

Tommy glances into the room. There’s a decent size window on the far wall with a grey curtain draped over it that matches the rest of the room. The bed and comforter is to the left and there’s a desk with a drawer to the right. It’s honestly one of the nicest rooms he’s ever stayed in, but then again, Tommy’s been in some shitty rooms, so the bar is basically on the fucking floor.

“I’ll leave you to get settled for the night. There’s leftovers in the fridge you can help yourself to if you get hungry.” Phil chirps as he walks back downstairs without waiting for an answer. Tommy steps into the room and closes the door, locking it when he realizes he can—though he’s sure that privilege won’t last for long.

Honestly, Tommy’s a bit overwhelmed right now, he doesn’t even want to think of the shopping trip that will ensue later this week, being unable to fathom why Phil would want to spend money on him, and doesn’t dare consider going back down for leftovers, despite his stomach’s protest. Luckily, school doesn’t start for another few weeks, so Tommy can put off stressing about that.

Tommy tosses his bag onto the ground and opens it. He’s not going to unpack just yet since he may need to grab the bag and run at some point, but he needs to make sure none of his stuff got lost during his great escape from his last shitty home.

Now, Tommy doesn’t have a lot to his name, but he has a few things he cares about. He owns a few sets of clothes and basic necessities, a phone, about a hundred dollars in emergency money, and some other sentimental things.

One of these sentimental things is a stuffed plush named Henry, who Tommy’s had for almost his whole life. He doesn't remember where he got the plush from but he loves the damn thing and has always protected it from other kids and parents.

Henry is a scruffy brown cow with small white spots stained with dirt and grime. He’s missing an eye and has quite a few holes that have been haphazardly sewn up with scraps of yarn, but Tommy loves him anyway, despite how shitty he is.

Next, Tommy owns a compass with the words ‘Your Tubbo’ engraved on the back. Tubbo himself has a matching one with ‘Your Tommy’ engraved on the back instead. It was allegedly always supposed to point the two best friends towards each other, but that was just a thing the 7-year olds had made up. The compasses were actually found broken in the trash, the needle merely spinning in a circle without direction.

Now, Tubbo was one of the only people who knew Tommy had powers. He was one of the other street kids Tommy befriended and knew Tommy had powers because he had stumbled upon a practice session where Tommy was growing grass in an alleyway.

The grass was shimmering the same shade as Tommy’s hands and was a bright green no grass in L’manberg is. Tubbo wasn’t afraid of him and actually thought the powers were quite cool, which, of course, Tommy is. He asked a shit ton of questions, though, many of which Tommy didn’t know the answer to, and swore secrecy.

Another thing Tommy owns and cares about is a small picture frame containing a pressed allium flower. The thing was a bitch to keep safe being glass and all but Tommy, of course, managed. It was given to Tommy by his other best friend, Ranboo, or as he liked to say, Ranboob, who was the reason why Tommy didn’t question Technoblade’s shit name.

The tall orphaned fuck is the only one allowed to be taller than big man Tommy since he’d given Tommy a pressed flower matching his own after discovering Tommy’s love for plants. He’s also the only other person Tommy has disclosed his powers to, something Tommy knew the fella would never share, being a good friend and also too awkward to do so.

Lastly, Tommy owns a crappy Polaroid photo of the three. They’re about eight years old in the photo and are still living out on the streets, making the picture taken before foster care. The three are grimy, wearing small, worn down clothes and sitting on some shit bench, but they’re smiling so big it could hang the stars in the sky.

(He ignores how his heart aches to be with them again. How this photo was taken right before the incident; right before his life went to shit and he had to fight tooth and nail to return to people who have moved on. He holds the memory close in his heart and hopes the boys in the photo remember him with their new families. He hopes they’ve kept the matching charms. He doesn't know what he’d do if they didn’t. It’s not like he’ll ever get to know.)

Tommy sighs at the memories and puts away all of his things, now calmer knowing they’re all still there. He tosses his bag beneath the desk in the room and flops down onto the bed, falling asleep still in his clothes.

He doesn’t dream that night.

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Chapter Text

Tommy wakes up with the sun streaming onto his face, reminding him that he forgot to close the curtain yesterday night. He groans and rolls over, knowing he definitely didn’t get enough sleep, before getting up to face the new shitty day.

Looking out into the backyard from his window, he notices the family—ah, right he almost forgot he was in a new foster home—has some sort of a garden going on with some produce plants and some flowers. Tommy smiles at the sight and has to suppress the sudden urge to go out there and cultivate the plants.

Contrary to popular belief, Tommy doesn’t always use his power to grow plants. Sure, he enjoys spontaneously sprouting flowers a fuck ton, but he also always loved growing plants naturally, which probably contributed to the power he got now that he thought about it.

As homeless children, he, Tubbo, and Ranboo would go around looking for any sort of plant growing in the streets of L’manberg. There weren't many, living in the middle of a huge city, but the ones they did find were uprooted and brought back to a little planter Tommy stole off an abandoned apartment building.

The old thing still had a bit of dirt in it and the three kids would try and make whatever they found grow, only Tommy ever having luck. Tubbo and Ranboo always ended up killing whatever weed or grass they planted while Tommy often made his grow and multiply.

He remembers how Ranboo would question how he did it and Tubbo would get all huffy about his’ dying, rambling about how he was at an unfair disadvantage, despite Tommy not using his powers. Tommy smiles fondly at the memory before shaking off the bittersweet feeling that always came with it and going to get ready for the day.

He grimaces as he peels off his disgusting grimy clothes from the day prior and changes into a clean red-and-white baseball tee paired with some khaki shorts. While changing, however, he notices a fucking flower bud creeping up the back of his shoulder.

Tommy quickly rips the flower off and discovers it to be a begonia, a flower that could mean future misfortunes and a warning to be cautious. He decides the flower was probably a result of yesterday’s excursion paired with the stress of a sudden new foster home, easily discarding it in the corner trash can.

(He ignores the reminder of the last time he grew a begonia. How in that same alleyway he inspected the flower he was assaulted and kidnapped, a bag over his head muffling his screams. He doesn’t think his magic knew the warning would be in effect so soon, tearing him away from those he loved without even a goodbye.)

Deeming the rest of his body plant-free, Tommy cracks open his bedroom door slightly. He winces at the creaking noise it makes but relaxes when he realizes no one is around.

Doing his best to not to hit any creaky floorboards, Tommy makes his way to the bathroom, shutting the door with a quiet click. Looking in the mirror, Tommy see the extent of his facial injuries, and boy is it fucking bad.

His back eye lives up to its name because the thing is almost completely shrouding his eye in a deep purple color, bordering being the color of charcoal. The edges of it are an unnatural blue that contrasts Tommy’s pale face.

Some of the other minor injuries on his face include a split lip, a few light yellow bruises on his jaw, and a shallow scratch on his cheek where his face collided with the ground during his great escape from the shitty fosters. His wounds aren't particularly painful unless he prods them, but they infinitely look much worse than yesterday.

He’s sure Phil and Wilbur didn’t notice his injuries due to the shitty lighting yesterday—or maybe they just didn’t care, but Tommy doubts they would be like that in front of Puffy. Families usually become cruel after the social worker leaves and they get to know the kid, or more likely, just how fucked up they are.

Tommy frowns as he takes out some shitty concealer he stole and applies it the best he can. It was something he took from a cheap convenience store when he ran out of a foster home with some nasty face injuries. He didn’t want Puffy to worry about him so much and as long as he kept his head down she usually couldn’t tell.

Tommy sighs and opens the cabinet under the sink. He sees the basket left there for him and uses some of its contents to get ready, stuffing some of the more useful items into his bag in case he needs to fucking book it. He still doesn’t know where he stands in the household, after all.

From his room, Tommy creeps down the stairs, he isn’t even sure he’s allowed to be out of his room without permission, but it’s only the first day so he hopes Phil will let it slide if he’s wrong. Tommy surveys the house and realizes his first intuition was right: this house looks so fucking homely.

Looking at the clock, Tommy sees it’s 6 am, to which he wrinkles his nose at. This is way too early for any human being to be awake but it also means he can raid the kitchen without disturbance.

Or so he thought.

A loud bang followed by a string of curses snaps Tommy out of his crime-planning and he quietly sneaks towards the noise. He’s like a raccoon; doing sneaky crimes to get himself fed. Almost like that sly vermin he nearly didn’t notice digging through the trash, but please, Tommy’s not desperate enough to dig through trash anymore, he has standards.

Peaking into the next room over, Tommy sees Phil on all fours trying to pick up the scattered papers of a fucking thick manila folder.

Now, this gives Tommy options.

He could be a dickwad and slowly back away from the room, making a mad dash back upstairs. Or he could go in there and help Phil pick up his shit.

Tommy’s instincts are telling him to go back, but now he realizes Phil is in the kitchen and might feed him if Tommy helps. Plus, Tommy isn’t a fucking coward, he’s a big man and big men aren’t scared of anything.

Steeling his nerves, Tommy slips into the kitchen and begins picking up some of the papers behind Phil. He finishes neatly orienting them as Phil gets up and turns around, jumping when he sees Tommy there.

“Jesus Christ, mate! You scared me.” Tommy immediately flinches back at Phil’s words. Oh god, he’s already fucked up, it’s been a day and he’s fucked up-

“Next time say something so I know you're here. I swear you're like a mouse!” Phil continues, seemingly unaware of Tommy’s inter turmoil.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to give you a heart attack in your old age, would we?” Tommy manages to stammer out, hoping the man wouldn’t take offense at his joke.

“Alright, you little shit I’m not that old. Jeez, you sound like my sons, always telling me it’s time to retire.”

“Well, maybe your sons are right.”

“Shut up. What are you even doing up at this hour anyway?” Phil inquires.

“What are you doing up at this hour? I thought old men sleep a lot.” Tommy deflects.

“I’ve got work to do,” Phil answers, “papers to sign, and breakfast to make. My boys eat a shit ton, so I usually get started on breakfast early. I can whip you up something quick right now if you're hungry, or can you wait to eat with my sons when they get up around 10?”

“I can wait,” Tommy replies despite being fucking famished, “I’m not that hungry this early in the day anyway.”

Phil hums in response and sits down at the dining table, beginning to spread out and read his papers, pen in hand.

“You can go watch television or read one of the books from the bookshelf.” Phil says to Tommy after he stands there for a few moments, awkwardly rocking on his heels.

Tommy nods and walks back into what he assumes is the living room. There’s a television opposite of a well-used couch in the room and a bookcase filled with various novels in the corner. The entire room is filled with shelves and tables of trinkets and family photos, some of which include other people as well, friends, Tommy assumes.

He strides over to the bookcase, not willing to risk waking up the other boys with the television, and pulls out the first book he sees: a book on Greek mythology. He randomly opens the book to one of the many dog-eared pages and sees a chapter depicting the tale of Theseus.

(Tommy was Theseus. Until he wasn’t. He can’t be. Not if he wants to stay.)

Sighing, Tommy sinks down onto the couch and begins to read the origins of Theseus.

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Chapter Text

Hours pass and, eventually, Tommy hears two phone alarms start to blare from the second floor, fucking annoying jingle and all. Immediately after there’s a thundering of heavy footsteps and a chorus of doors slamming.

Tommy looks up from his book expectantly, half expecting to see someone falling down the stairs and half wondering what the fuck the other household residents were doing. He hears Phil sigh from the kitchen as banging ensues.

“Wilbur, get the hell out!” a monotone voice drawls, “You always spend so much time styling your stupid rats’ nest when you’re practically bald!”

“Shut the fuck up Techno! You’re one to talk with your flowing pink locks of luxury!”

“At least mine actually looks nice after!”

“Be quiet you royal pig!”

After that, the banging stops and Tommy hears one of the bedroom doors slam, making him flinch. Tommy’s stomach rumbles as the smell of various breakfast foods Phil cooked permeates the air.

“Don’t mind them too much, mate. The twins are always at each other's throats, especially for bathroom usage in the morning.” Phil calls out from the kitchen, coming to stand in the doorway.

“Siblings, eh?” Tommy answers, still wary of his surroundings.

Phil hums, “Yep, I’m sure you’ll fit right in with your track record, the thing almost rivals Techno’s. Your situations aren’t that different, after all.”

Tommy huffs disbelievingly, but responds nonetheless, “So, I’m gonna assume he’s the more problematic child?”

“I wouldn’t say problematic, but he’s perhaps more prone to act out with violent tendencies, being overprotective of Wilbur n’ all. Wilbur always preferred his words, using manipulation over physical fighting.”

Tommy shivers. He’s positive that that was a threat, indicating he shouldn’t step out of line or else he’ll have two people—both well-versed in hurting others—sicked on him.

He doesn’t dwell on the thought for two long as footsteps are heard coming down the stairs. Tommy doesn’t recognize the bulky man so he assumes this is Technoblade, the last resident of the household he has yet to meet.

The man himself is an imposing 6’1” and seems to be built like a fucking tank. He has scars littering his face and arms, a particularly large one stretching over the bridge of his nose.

His outfit is gracefully old-fashioned and traditional. The Victorian blouse he’s wearing gathers in certain spots and ruffles in others, being a slight off-white hue. The high waisted pants are black and sleek, matching with Techno’s shiny black combat boots.

Despite having nerdy glasses situated at the tip of his nose, the man is intimidating. His resting bitch face is enunciated by his elegantly braided, waist-length pink hair that tells Tommy this man doesn’t take shit from nobody.

“Phil, why is there a child on our couch?” the man drawls, snapping Tommy out of his daze and shocking him with how apathetic and devoid of emotion the voice sounded compared to the yelling of this morning. Putting him in such a state of shock that he didn’t even correct the man about his manliness.

“Be nice, Techno. He’s our new foster. Got placed here yesterday after running from his previous home; I don’t know the details.” Phil’s reprimands.

Techno scrunches up his face in disgust, “Ew an orphan. Why Phil, why?”

“‘Ow do,” Tommy butts in as the conversation turns to him, “names Tommy, nice to meet ya.”

“Technoblade, and I wish I could say the same to you.”

“Why do you have an American accent? Are you a wrong’un?”

“What the hell does that mean, orphan? You better not be insulting me. I could dropkick you.”

Tommy freezes at the threat, he doesn’t doubt the man in front of him could obliterate him easily. His silence stretches a bit too long and before anyone can do something to diffuse the room, Wilbur comes barreling down the stairs.

“Good morning, Phil!” he chirps, stretching out the ‘o’ in ‘good’. Techno leaves with a small huff of ‘finally’ and goes up the stairs to presumably use the bathroom.

He nods at Wilbur as the man goes on to question Phil about breakfast. It turns out they’re having a multitude of things, ranging from pancakes to hash browns to omelettes, apparently to accommodate everyone’s tastes.

Techno returns rather quickly and the three of them turn to go into the kitchen, Techno glancing at Tommy in a manner that suggests Tommy should follow them, but stopping when something catches his eye.

“You into Greek mythology, kid?” the man huffs, causing the other two to turn back to them and tune into their conversation.

Tommy shrugged noncommittally, suddenly anxious under their gazes, “A lil bit. Why?”

“Because Techno here is a huge mythology nerd. He’s particularly fond of the tale of Theseus.” Wilbur interjects, coming over to inspect the tome himself.

Tommy mutters a ‘how ironic’ under his breath, but no one seems to notice, or if they did they didn’t mention it. Phil chuckles lightly, amused by his boys—yes his boys, his hindbrain has already claimed the new chick—but stopping them before the chatter escalates so they can eat breakfast.

The three usual occupants of the dining room slide into their chairs easily, leaving Tommy to debate where to sit for a second before deciding to sit across from Techno and next to Phil.

The sheer amount of food blows Tommy’s eyes wide. He’s never had access to this much food in his life and seeing how everyone is taking as much as their hearts content, he makes quick work doing the same. He doesn’t dare take more than the others, though, scared of them noticing his rather large plate and punishing him for eating so much while still trying to get enough to be able to comfortably sustain his powers since they often took a lot of energy.

(He remembers not having enough everyday. Digging through the trash and begging for hours only to willingly give up most of what he got, lying to his friends so they would take it.

He remembers the people in white snapping at him when he asked for more than the little amount they provided. Beating him for every little thing while making sure he didn’t have the strength to fight back. Not yet, at least.)

That doesn't happen, however, so Tommy keeps eating. He doesn’t notice glances of empathy Wilbur sends him, the looks of understanding from Techno, and the stares of compassion Phil gives him as the man discreetly slides the food closer to him.

The conversation mostly goes over Tommy’s head, consisting of Wilbur and Phil’s constant talk and Techno’s dry quips, but it catches him when the subject becomes him.

“So, I’m planning to take Tommy shopping for his room and stuff this Saturday, are you boys coming?” Phil asks.

“Yeah, sure, I’ve been meaning to get new guitar strings.” Wilbur answers.

“And I could use some more books.” Techno replies.

Phil huffs in response and the room falls uncomfortably silent, and Tommy’s quick to break that.

“So, big men, what’s the worst word you know?”

The room snaps to him and Wilbur breaks out laughing, his voice crescendoing when Phil actually pauses to consider the question.

“What kind of question is that, gremlin?” Wilbur says through his tears in his eyes.

“I’ll have you know I know many terrible words, including shit, fuck, dick, pussy-“

“Ok, ok, we get it!” Wilbur says as he falls into another fit of giggles, “Here’s a better question to start a conversation: Phil says you’ve got quite the track record, being kicked out of several schools, what’s your record? Mine is 3 days.”

“4 hours.” Tommy huffs, a smirk evident in his tone. This was his domain after all.

They finish breakfast rather peacefully and as Phil loads up the dishwasher—despite Tommy’s insistence that he could wash the plates—he decides to lay down some ground rules.

“So, we don’t have many rules here,” Tommy sucked in a breath, this is where it all goes to shit with bizarre rules and responsibilities, “and the ones we do have are pretty basic common courtesy. Knock and wait for confirmation before entering someone’s bedroom, we’ll do the same to you, let me know if you're going out for the day, hanging out with friends and such, and please be home before 10 pm. I’m not too strict on curfew, but if you're going to be late you should text me or one of the boys. Oh, and we do chore rotations here, so expect to pull some of your own weight. We’ll integrate you into the schedule next week, so don’t worry too much about it just yet.”

Tommy released the breath he was holding. That’s it? Be respectful and help out? No threats of severe punishment?

Tommy narrowed his eyes, those rules seemed way to lose for any household and he suspected there was something more. Phil even went as far as to say they would be respectful to him, and Tommy basically felt the bullshit radiating off that statement.

Almost sensing his feelings, Techno cut in.

“Phil’s more of a chill parent. He would never lay a hand on us, too, he’s too big of a softie. His little bird brain can only lightly lecture us before pulling us into a hug whenever we do something wrong.”

Tommy ignored the weird implications of Phil having a ‘bird brain’ and instead focused on the rest of the statement.

“So no withholding food? No beatings or harsh punishments?”

“Oh, Christ no, kid! I’d never!” Phil exclaims in a panic.

Tommy looks away not believing a single word they said. After a moment, Phil sighs and changes the subject, thankfully pulling everyone out of the awkward bubble in the room.

“Do you have a phone so we could add you to the family group chat? You’ll need to be in it so you can text us when you're heading out and if you’ll be back late.”

Tommy nodded skeptically and gave the man his number. Phil fiddled with his phone until Tommy felt a small buzz from his inside pocket.

It was a message from an unknown group chat followed by a few others telling Tommy who’s number was who. He sent out a test text to confirm who he was and put away his phone, pleased.

Wilbur then decided it was time for Tommy to receive a house tour and Phil waved off the boys with a huff, Techno being dragged by the sleeve. The house was pretty basic, no strange rooms or confusing hallways, just regular bedrooms, bathrooms, and living areas.

The rest of the day is quiet, with all residents keeping to their own rooms or doing their own things. Tommy himself is just scrolling mindlessly through social media while thinking about everything that has happened today. The house inhabitants fended for their own lunch, as explained to Tommy, and communal dinner passed by without much to note.

That night Tommy went to bed with some of his worries answered, yet more questions. He knew what Phil had stated as expectations for him, but they were so vague he wasn't sure if the man was leaving something out that would inevitably get Tommy into trouble.

Downstairs, hushed whispers are exchanged.

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Chapter Text

The Minecraft household wasn’t your average family household. It has all the regular components of a normal family: a loving parent, doting sons, and cheerful laughter at the dinner table, but it was different.

It had arguments that end in a rage and apologies that show their bond, but the Minecraft’s have one odd factor thrown into the mix: powers. Downstairs from a sleeping child, this is what they were discussing.

They had to discuss how they were going to hide and control their powers in front of the kid. How they were going to keep their newest resident from knowing what they are.

Now, it’s not obvious to the average person that this household is slightly more magical than the rest, but if you look closely, all their eyes seem to glow slightly, increasing whenever they activate their powers. Techno’s glow a slight crimson, Wilbur’s a welcoming amber, and Phil’s an angelic white. Tommy’s eyes glow as well, an electric blue color radiating off them, not that he or anyone else has noticed.

If you were to tell people the Minecraft’s were magical, they’d laugh and say of course. From Phil’s parental aura directed to all kids within sight, Wilbur’s melodic words that can rope anyone into a conversation easily, and Techno’s safe but threatening vibe that can scare newcomers or promise protection, you would see how someone ignorant would describe the Minecraft’s as magical.

Now, in more physical, tangible terms, the family had some…abnormalities. Phil, for one, could summon massive crow wings from his back, being able to use them for flight, warmth, or even intimidation. Being able to understand birds, the man often has crows surrounding him, feeding him information or just spewing random nonsense.

Next, Wilbur’s power is contained in his voice. He can alter it as he pleases, making it loud enough to burst eardrums, or quiet enough so no regular human can hear. He often changes the pitch and tune of his voice when singing, slipping in discrete messages in the undertones. Wil can manipulate the way his voice is perceived, making threats and commands into saccharin, suggestive words people can’t seem to say no to, letting him manipulate their emotions and actions.

Lastly, Techno is more of a tank in a literal sense, not a force you want to reckon with, lest he snap you in half. The man has enhanced senses and reflexes. He heals faster than any normal human should and is blessed—or cursed some might say—with the inability to die from physical wounds inflicted upon him. There are voices in his head intended to inform him of threats to the family he protects, but they usually just spew shit that pisses him off by giving him a massive migraines.

All of that, though, is kept behind closed doors. Locked and barricaded so that not even the toughest forces can force their way in, not that they’d want to, after all. What you think is supposed to keep people out, is usually meant to keep something in.

No one will ever know what’s behind those doors, well, until now.

This said breach in security wakes up warmer and fuller than he’d ever felt. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and checks his phone for the time, something he could’ve done yesterday instead of going downstairs and checking the clock.

It was around 8 am, not too early like yesterday, but still too early to do shit; as depicted by the other fuckers here who get up at 11, well, besides Phil, but he only gets up to do old man shit. Tommy sighs and gets up, getting ready for the day the same way he did yesterday: getting dressed, going to the bathroom, covering up any visible bruises, and going downstairs.

Phil nods at him from the kitchen, a silent question as to if he’s alright food-wise coating it. Tommy nods in return, slightly perplexed as to why Phil asked, and sits on the couch to continue reading the book of mythology from yesterday.

Time passes and soon Tommy finds himself gorging on another breakfast feast, staying mostly out of the conversation. Not that he minds, though, telling the twins just as such when they try and rope him in the conversation with questioning stares—he’d rather spend his time eating everything he fucking can than talking.

He hates how relaxed he feels in this home, something he’d never felt before. Maybe it was because of the twins in the household; they had all gone through similar traumatic experiences, after all, but none of them have ever even talked about it yet. Not to mention he feels strangely at home around Phil too.

(He scowls at the thought, knowing far too well he can’t get attached to another family since it will only be ripped away from him sooner or later, a torturous cycle he’s a part of. He hates how he’s let his walls down around these new people and reluctantly agrees that he’ll miss them when they’re gone, either by the government finding him or them sending him back to foster care. It won’t last, he knows, and he doesn’t know why he wants it to.)

When all their plates are cleared, Phil begrudgingly allows Tommy to load the dishwasher since he asked, a sort of normalcy for him among all the anomalies of this house. It’s a bit soothing, too, since it’s something Tommy has done so much in his life he could practically do it blindfolded, meaning it’s an action that requires little thought and more of muscle memory.

Just as he’s finishing up, Tommy sees Techno come into the kitchen wearing some sort of stupid looking straw hat and shit overalls. The man is heading straight for the sliding glass doors leading to the backyard and Tommy deduces that he’s going to tend to the garden, something he’s wanted to do since he got here.

He puts away the last dish and power walks—because sprinting is for pussies, thank you very much—over to Techno, who looks at the boy quizzically.

“Hey, uh, Techno,” the man in question tilting his head at Tommy, “if you're, uh, going to check on your garden, do ya think I can come with?”

Techno just grunts at him and continues walking outside. Tommy takes this fucking stupid non-verbal answer as a yes and goes to grab his boots from by the front door; I mean, how do you expect a person to know what a fucking grunt means? If Techno’s going to be all cryptic and shit, Tommy’s going to do as he pleases.

Practically buzzing with excitement, Tommy goes to join Techno, who seems to be adding some form of fertilizer—based on the putrid smell wafting off it—to his potato crops. He rocks on his heels beside the man, waiting for any sort of task or instruction.

“Oh, you’re actually going to help me? I thought you would just sit by the flowers or something. That’s what Wil does anyway.” Techno finally acknowledges.

“Ew, don’t ever compare me to that lazy fuck. I actually like gardening, thank you very much.”

“Fine, help me spread out this fertilizer and then I’ll give you a tour of the whole place.”

Tommy did as he was told merrily and Techno swears he has never seen someone so happy while distributing cow shit. They finished quickly and, as promised, Techno gives Tommy a tour of the garden.

During the tour, Tommy got to feed some fucking pog birds! The crow fuckers were everywhere for some reason so he and Techno put some bird seed in their hands for them. The crows flew down, unafraid, and ate the seeds right out of their fucking palms, perching all over them and cawing loudly in their ears.

However, on a sadder note, Tommy noticed some dead looking peace lilies when walking around one of the flower patches. The poor things had droopy, yellow-tipped leaves and Tommy was almost positive it’s roots were worse off.

“Hey, Techno, your fucking peace lilies look like their dyin’.” he comments dryly.

“I know, but I can’t seem to figure out why. I treat it the same as all the other flowers who are flourishing. I doubt I can bring those back to life, anyway; I’m better off gettin’ new ones for Phil.” the man huffed, clearly frustrated by the dying plant.

“That’s because it isn’t like the other flowers. Based on its wilted appearance and leaves, I’d say you’re fucking overwatering the thing. Peace lilies do best with minimal water, so I’m sure it’s roots are rotting under the soil at the moment. I’m not sure if it’s salvageable, but there’s a few things you can try. For now, you should stop watering the fucking drowned thing, clean its roots off for rot, replant it fresh, healthy soil, and hope for the best.” Tommy rambled, unintentionally impressing Techno with his weird flower knowledge.

“That’s–that’s surprisingly helpful. Who knew the Tommy Innit was such a plant nerd.” Techno teased with an undertone of gratefulness, already bending down to uproot the flowers.

“Shut up!” Tommy flushed, “I just don’t want your flowers to die since you’re so shit at taking care of them!”

Techno huffed out a laugh and turned to look at Tommy, seeing his face and ears flushed a deep pink. However, being the ever-observant person he was, Techno noticed a sort of…lighter spot on his face? The spot wasn’t shiny with sweat as it should be and it looked a little like smudged paint.

Part of the spot was washed away by sweat to reveal Tommy’s blush so Techno concluded it was some kind of foundation makeup. Why Tommy was wearing foundation in only one spot on his face he had no idea, but he was going to find out.

Leaning over, Techno firmly grasped Tommy’s chin, cutting off whatever tyraid he was going on. He tilted the face slightly to get a better look at the spot of, presumably, foundation and confirmed it was indeed makeup.

“What the fuck are you doing, dickhead!? This isn’t some fucking reality TV show where people actually do weird shit like this!”

Techno rolled his eyes and gingerly used his other hand to wipe at the spot, noticing Tommy’s wince when the hand made contact. He gently rubbed it until the skin underneath was visible and was shocked to find a deep purple bruise.

Frantically looking over the rest of Tommy’s face, he notices some more spots with makeup covering them, probably also injuries. What the fuck had happened to this kid?

“What’s with your face being all screwed up like that? You look like some fucking fish all gaping like meh meh meh.” Tommy mocked, finally breaking free from the grip Techno had on face. He stopped, though, when he realized Techno wasn’t moving or responding.

“You ok there, big man? Didn’t accidentally spook you with my poggers masculinity, did I? Think of that! Tommy Innit scaring the Blade. Nothing out of the ordinary, though.” Tommy jested nervously, trying to get a reaction out of the catatonic Techno.

Oh, and a reaction he got.

As if shocked with electricity, Techno shot up, eyes wide, and ran back into the house, leaving a now gaping Tommy sitting in the dirt. A Tommy who was utterly confused about what the fuck had just happened.

Feeling his face where Techno touched him, however, Tommy finally realized his grave mistake.

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Chapter Text

Now, Phil wasn’t expecting for his oldest son to come barreling into the house with no Tommy in sight. Fearing the worst, Phil met Techno halfway to the door, scanning him for any visible injuries.

“Mate, are you alright? Where’s Tommy? Did something happen?” he rambled.

“Someone hurt him, Phil.” Techno said cryptically, with what Phil could recognize as barely concealed anger and concern.

“Who? Tommy? Did something happen, mate?”

Techno shook his head, going to sit down with Phil still hovering over him. He takes a deep breath to calm his protective instincts and explains to Phil what he saw.

Now, Phil is worried about his newest fledgling, but he also finds it adorable that Techno’s hindbrain has claimed the boy like Phil’s has, making him stupidly overprotective of the kid. Technoblade’s hindbrain always demands justice for his family in the form of bloodshed, hence why he is here in the kitchen, calming himself so as to not scare Tommy.

Phil knows Tommy isn’t in immediate danger, so he stays calming his oldest son by holding his hand and forcing the man to match his exaggerated breaths. Eventually, Techno calms and the two go outside to collect Tommy, who strangely hasn’t come in yet.

They find him absently pruning some of the plants, mind elsewhere as he doesn't notice Phil or Techno enter into the garden. He just continues doing his rhythmic movements with a blank face. Only when Phil clears his throat for the third time does Tommy snap out of his stupor.

“Ah- hey, I’m, uh, sorry if I spooked you earlier Techno, the bruises are nothing, old news really. I didn’t want to come inside in case I worsened the panic attack you were having, so I, uh, pruned some of your plants. It’s kinda calming to me since I really like plants n’ all, but I guess I’m just trying to say sorry?”

“Tommy, mate, we aren’t mad at you. Techno was just panicking because he didn’t know how you got hurt or who hurt you, that’s all.” Phil soothed, noting how much Tommy liked gardening and plants.

“Well, that’s a fuckin’ weird thing to panic over, but who am I to judge I suppose.”

“Techno just sees himself as a sort of protector to those around him, so he doesn’t like it when people are hurt and sometimes it causes him to panic like that.”

Tommy nods, he gets it, really—well, not really, but he gets the panicking part. The man in question rubs the back of his neck sheepishly and Tommy almost feels bad for him—almost—big men don’t feel pity, after all. Phil nearly chirps at the adorable sight, but refrains, hoping to get Tommy inside so they can check his wounds.

“Alright mate, how about we go back in for a cup or tea and I can check your wounds?” Phil hums, doing his best to reassure the fledgling.

Tommy just puts down his tools and turns to follow the two back inside, this time finding Wilbur strumming his guitar at the table, seeming deep in thought with his headphones in. His brow is furrowed and he looks frustrated, but Tommy bites down the urge to ask him what’s up.

Tommy had been the most at ease around Wilbur, despite barely interacting with him compared to the other Minecraft’s. Perhaps it was because he thought he could probably take the man in a fight or maybe it was just his general demeanor.

Phil always seemed too fatherly and Techno was always so stoic. None of them pause to talk to Wilbur as they walk straight past him into the living room, and Tommy begins to get nervous.

He’s never liked doctors before and usually he doesn’t have anyone but himself to check his wounds. It usually works out, but he doubts Phil is going to let him go with a self-diagnostic. He doesn’t want any of them touching him or being anywhere near his wounds, though.

(He hates doctors because of a certain man, a man who is visibly twisted with a stark white coat to match his unnerving grin. He hates the way the sterile room smells as he’s strapped to a table against his will, struggling to find purchase, although already knowing there isn't any.

He hates the way the people touch him. Prodding him, slicing him, and pushing him to see how he ticks, how he functions. It’s ironic, the people who inflict his injuries checking them, as if trying to manipulate him into thinking they’re the good guys. He’s never had a choice in the matter and he doubts he will now.)

Tommy sits on the couch, willing for it to simply consume him, but it doesn’t and he watches in despair as Phil and Techno rush to grab a bunch of supplies. Techno hands him a wet cloth and Tommy begins wiping all the concealer off his face, leaving his nasty bruises visible.

Phil audibly gasps at the sight and Tommy grimaces as he gets closer to get a better look. The man isn’t exactly touching him, but he’s getting pretty fucking close.

“I’m fine, big man, really. These are nothing, they’ll heal in no time.”

“Tommy, these things have to be somewhat painful. The bruises are fucking massive, Christ, you should’ve told us sooner so we could’ve applied ointment.” Tommy shrinks at Phil’s words, heart rate picking up at the sight of the angry man.

“I mean, they probably would’ve healed on their own with time, but it’s still not ideal. They-“

“Tommy calm down.” Techno’s blunt voice cut in. Tommy didn’t even notice he was hyperventilating. When did that start?

“Oh, Tommy,” Phil’s voice softened considerably, a weak chirp bubbling out, “I’m not mad at you, I promise, I was just worried, mate. Those bruises are pretty bad.”

“Here, lemme–Techno pass the bruise cream, thanks–I can put some of this stuff on your face or would you rather do it yourself?”

“I- I can do it fine, thanks.” Tommy stammers, reaching out his hand. He expects Phil to protest, to make Tommy let the man apply the cream, but he just smiles and hands it over.

Tommy does the best he can at putting on the cream without a mirror. He honestly just applies it to anywhere on his face that throbs when he grazes over it with his fingers.

With the bruises taken care of, Techno moves on to what he believes are more pressing matters. He doubts the face was the only thing injured.

“Tommy, where else are you hurt? You probably have more serious injuries on your body than just your face?” the man questions, his gaze boring into the floorboards so as to not pressure the kid into an answer, though he really does need to know.

“Ah, my ankle, probably. It got kinda scuffed when I jumped out the window.”

“You jumped out of a fucking window?! Tommy, what the hell, man?! You can’t just–ah, never mind, just prop your foot up on the table so I can assess the damage.”

Doing as he’s told, Tommy notices the ankle is significantly worse than when he saw it in the dim light of Puffy’s car. The thing is swollen with deep discolorations that mean nothing good if Techno’s sharp breath and Phil’s hovering is anything to go by.

“Tommy, your ankle is definitely sprained. How have you even been walking on it this whole time? It probably hurts like hell.” Techno exclaims, making Tommy aware of just how much pain he’s in.

“Don’t worry, big man. I’ve gone through much worse, this is nothing compared to my ribs. Those fucks feel like total shit.” Tommy says, trying to reassure, but it only seems to make the situation worse as Phil moves closer, medkit in hand.

“Tommy, can you show us your ribs, please?” the father-figure gently asks, his hindbrain going crazy—fledgling hurt no baby bird no hurt—with Techno’s no doubt doing the same.

They don’t want to scare Tommy, but if his ribs are in much more pain than a sprained ankle he’s been walking on for days, then something is definitely wrong. Apparently, this is the wrong thing to say as Tommy hunches over his stomach, drawing his knees to his chest and eliciting a wince from everyone in the room.

“Tommy, mate, we just want to check on you to make sure nothings seriously wrong. I’m sure we can make your ribs feel a lot better.” Phil soothes, moving closer but stopping when the boy flinches.

“No! Don’t touch me!” the boy says as he scrambles back, eyes wide and frantic and scared.

“We won’t touch you, Tommy, but we still have to at least see your ribs. They could be broken and, if left untreated, could cause you a lot more pain down the road.” Techno says carefully, inching closer as if trying to tame a wild animal.

(It doesn’t matter what they say. Tommy isn’t listening anymore, he couldn’t even if he wanted to, he’s already gone from the moment. Tommy’s now in a place where he can’t hear over the pounding of blood in his ears and all he feels are the inescapable phantom hands grasping at him. All he sees are the white coats, coming to drag him off to more experiments and training.)

Like the wild animal he is, Tommy rushes to escape the cornering predators. He runs back to where he knows there’s a door to the outside and zigzags around the dining table when he hears approaching footsteps behind him.

Tommy almost knocks over the chair Wilbur is sitting in and, consequently, almost knocks over his guitar, when he makes a sharp turn in order to hide behind the piece of furniture. The outcome is not so pretty.

“You brat!” Wilbur yells at a now-crouched Tommy, unintentionally activating his powers. “You almost knocked me over and made me drop my guitar!”

His voice is louder and deeper than it should be, almost coming out as a menacing growl. A spike of fear runs through Tommy’s veins as he decides his hiding spot is no longer safe, darting out the back door before anyone can comprehend the situation.

“Wilbur, what did you do?” Phil asked from the doorway connecting the living room and kitchen.

“That little brat almost made me drop my guitar!”

“So, you use your powers to make your voice sound raucous and manipulate him into being more scared than he already is?!”

“I didn’t mean to do that, but the kid had it coming, barreling into the room like that!”

“That’s not an excuse, Wilbur!” Techno exclaims loudly, cutting off the argument entirely. “Tommy’s out there terrified and injured. We can argue later, but right now we have to go find him before he gets lost.”

Phil and Wilbur wordlessly nod, worry overcoming any lingering anger. Wilbur gets out his phone to ask everyone he knows to keep an eye out for a blonde teenager. He forms a search group with a few of his close friends and they go out into the streets of town to look for the boy, despite none of them ever even meeting Tommy.

Techno throws on his own coat and goes to check the woods for the kid, thinking where he used to run when being fostered by Phil. It’s getting dark and Techno doesn’t want anyone to be in the woods when the sun sets, so he starts moving a little faster.

Phil paces the kitchen anxiously, waiting to see if Tommy finds his own way home so he can wrap the boy up in a tight hug. He wishes he could fly above all the trees and buildings, looking, but his boys think it’s too risky for him to use his powers and Techno had advised waiting at home to see if Tommy changes his mind and returns on his own.

A little while away, Tommy runs to where he knows he’s safe.

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Chapter Text

Ok, so, Tommy doesn’t remember exactly how he got here, but it feels pretty safe. He’s currently situated on the upper branches of a tall oak tree in the smack damn middle of a forest.

Tommy remembers Wilbur yelling at him, but he doesn’t know why it made him so fucking scared. The man wasn’t giving any tells that he would hit Tommy, yet Tommy felt more scared than he has in a good fucking while.

He thinks it has something to do with Wilbur’s voice. It sorta changed when he was yelling, shifting into something more dangerous that made Tommy afraid.

He decides he likes it up here, up in the trees, surrounded by nature with the wind blowing through his hair. That reminds him, his hair is getting long again and he needs to start tying it up.

Holding out his hands, Tommy focuses the power flowing through his veins and grows a flower. He opens his hands and finds a daffodil slowly blooming between his fingers.

Tommy’s powers are a lot wiser than he will ever be. They are gifted from generations and generations of people who’ve had this power before him, and he will eventually pass down the power himself, not necessarily to his biological children, but rather a child in spirit.

His powers tell him things in the best way they can. They often grow him different flowers to symbolize what he needs to know. Of course, he can control what plants he makes if he wants to, but he sometimes prefers letting his power decide in case they want to tell him anything.

Daffodils symbolize rebirth and hope, which Tommy snorts at. After all, he currently just ran from his fosters’ home and is hiding in the woods god knows where.

He doubts becoming a jungle rat is the kind of rebirth his powers mean, but then again, who knows? Maybe Tommy should become a jungle rat that lives in trees, he’d like to be surrounded by nature all the time.

Resting his head on his knees, Tommy shifts to get more comfortable. He’ll probably sleep in this tree tonight and grow some vines to climb down in the morning since this seems like a nice sheltered spot to rest.

God, is his foster family looking for him? He’d honestly rather not think about those fuckers right now since all his emotions are conflicted and thinking too hard makes his head hurt. Tommy resorts to just closing his eyes and listening to Mother Nature breathe all around him, humming along with her soft song.

He almost jolts when he feels a weight pressed to his head, but some instinct inside of him tells him not to move, so he doesn’t. Cracking open his eyes, Tommy sees one fucking huge moth. The thing is probably bigger than his whole head and it’s a mix of creepy and cute.

Weighing his options, Tommy slowly holds out his hands, catching the mutated moth’s attention. He focuses his energy once more and begins growing clusters of honeysuckles, a moth favorite if he remembers correctly.

The moth creeps down Tommy’s arm and gingerly starts feeding on the flowers, relaxing more as time passes. Right then and there Tommy decides he is now keeping the moth and will name it Clementine.

You see, having a nature-themed power and all, Tommy can sort of bond with the souls of animals. He uses his power to reach into Clementine’s soul and bond her to him, making her a sort of familiar, similar to a witch’s but less for practical reasons and more for companion sakes.

Tommy vows to keep Clementine safe and leaves her to feast on the flowers while he comes up with a game plan. He can’t exactly go back to the Minecraft’s house, but he also realizes he never grabbed his bag when running, the one packed and ready for emergencies like this.

How could he forget it? How scared was he that fear clouded his judgment and rational thinking?! Tommy blames Wilbur for his mistakes as he drifts off to sleep, honeysuckles still in hand.

(Tommy dreams about another time where fear clouded his judgment, a time where he couldn’t rely on his powers or friends to save him, a time where he couldn’t escape. He dreams about why he’s able to climb trees so well, a time of fear-induced training that forced him to learn. He learned a lot, much of which he should’ve never needed to know.)

A sharp crack from down below the tree wakes Tommy up from his unconsciousness. He notices he has tears running down his face, but now isn’t the time to focus on that when someone could see him.

Hiding deeper in the foliage, Tommy shifts to see who made the noise, seeing a flash of fucking pink hair. Oh come on, just Tommy’s fucking luck. Fucking Technoblade is the one to find him, being probably the only one able to spot him from the ground.

With the increased risk of being found, Tommy’s breathing begins to speed up. Nothing good ever happens to flight risks found by their fosters. He might as well be a dead man walking.

Last he recalled, Techno had hypersensitive hearing, his proof being never being able to scare the man like Wilbur or Phil when he came up behind him silently. The man just always knew he was there and once, when he had pushed his chair into the dining room table, he saw the man shy away from the chair’s grating noise with the twitch of an ear.

At the time, Tommy just noted to be quieter around Techno so as to not cause him so much pain, but now he realizes if he doesn’t calm his gasping breaths, Techno may actually be able to hear him from all the way down below. Tommy’s lucky he’s so fucking observant or else he never would have known to muffle the noise, just assuming the man wouldn’t be able to hear him so far away.

Cursing out Techno’s super hearing, Tommy bites down hard on his hand to snuff out the noise of his panic attack. The pain was grounding, too, helping him to stay in the moment.

(Tommy doesn’t like to think about when he started having panic attacks. How this one is especially worse since it reminds him of training. How he would run through the woods endlessly being tailed by a thing that never tired. Learning to be stealthy and climb trees instead of trying to outrun the invincible being.

Tommy hates how the memory tries to tug him away from the present. How it tries to rip away his focus on not being caught by a man who could easily kill him if he wanted to. He bites down harder.)

Techno looks around for a bit, but fortunately, he never looks up and, consequently, never spots Tommy. He slowly turns and walks back the way he came with a speedy gait, leaving Tommy behind.

The last thing Tommy sees before passing out due to a lack of oxygen is Clementine’s buggy eyes peering down on him.

When Tommy awakes he finds that it’s a little before midday, or well, he thinks it is. He’s never been good at reading the sun’s position. He stretches and almost fucking falls out of the tree he’s in, but catches himself on the branches, like a big man.

He finds Clementine munching on some rotten fruit next to him and decides he should probably get on the move and find some food. He begins to grow long, rope-like vines using his powers and wraps them around the tree so he can climb down.

Clementine follows and Tommy walks aimlessly until he finds an open grassy field. He decides he is due for a rest and sits down, plucking an apple off a nearby tree to snack on.

Being alone with no one around but Clem, Tommy realizes he doesn't have to hide his powers since no one will see. Technically, he’s never supposed to use his powers out in the open, but Tommy is too much of a big man to care at this point. Living life on the edge, ya know?

Taking a deep breath, Tommy grows some lovely peonies in his hair, arranging them in the shape of a flower crown, except this flower crown is anchored to his scalp. He then grows an array of flowers surrounding him: hydrangeas, tulips, carnations, dahlias, and so forth.

None of the flowers are particularly chosen by Tommy or his powers. They are simply growing together, despite all odds. Tommy actually finds this pretty therapeutic, being able to get his emotions and pent up energy out in a positive way.

He remembers growing flowers like this when he’d discovered Tubbo and Ranboo were adopted and no longer in the heart of L’Manberg, but rather, a quaint town a little ways off. He’d been heartbroken, coming home traumatized and not being able to find any of his friends.

Tommy had reluctantly gone to the local orphanage to get some fucking answers. They are reluctant to tell him, but after begging profusely he ends up finding out they were adopted by two families simultaneously, both living near one another.

He was relieved they were safe and together, but then the guilt and despair set in. If he’d been around they wouldn’t have been caught by the system and they’d still be with him.

He’d never even got to say goodbye and he wasn’t sure if they thought he’d abandoned them for something better or if he died. He should’ve been able to keep them safe and away from the families they all despised, but he didn’t.

To say he was heartbroken was an understatement. Tommy was fucking crushed.

He ran off to the little communal alleyway the three boys often met in and tripped over the planter he stole. He was so overwhelmed with conflicting emotions he had just let loose and let his powers flow from him, growing plant after plant in that cramped box.

Tommy stopped when he heard footsteps, though. He’d quickly thrown the planter farther into the alley to hide any evidence of what he was, no plants like that grew where they lived, after all.

Turns out it was the dumb lady who managed the orphanage. She forced him to come with her and put him into foster care against his will, using his fake name of Thomas Innit to draw up legal papers. He went through foster after foster and social worker after social worker, till he found Puffy, the only good’un in this shit world, that is.

Puffy actually tried at her job. She found Tommy nice families that usually only sent him back when he severely fucked up, last one not included. Those people were just assholes that were really good at acting, so Tommy didn’t blame Puffy for missing the signs.

She never got mad when he was sent back to her and sometimes even bought him treats if the returning was particularly bad. He always felt bad for forcing her to deal with him, but she’d always reassure him that it wasn’t his fault with a sad smile, silently cursing out the world who hurt the poor boy.

Tommy lays down and wonders how Tubbo and Ranboo are nowadays. Are they happy and healthy with their new families? Do they miss or remember him at all? Do they still have their matching charms?

He can only hope.

But maybe, just maybe he won’t have to hope for much longer as a certain brunette and split man make their way out of a second-story window.

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Chapter Text

“This is a bad idea, Tubbo.”

“Shut up, arsehole! I don’t see you coming up with a better plan!”

“Yea, but do we really need to climb out of a window situated on the second floor?!”

“We gotta be stealthy, man! We can’t let them know we’re gone!”

Ranboo rubbed at his eyes, hoping that when he opens them, the failure he is stuck with named Tubbo will be gone. Unfortunately, life was never kind to the tall boy, and he opens his eyes to see the short man trying to reach for a nearby tree halfway out the window, dangerously close to falling.

“Tubbo, you idiot, what are you doing?!” Ranboo exclaims, going over to grab the short boy by the waist to prevent him from falling completely out the window.

“Well, because someone wouldn’t help me, I decided to take matters into my own hands.” Tubbo sneers back.

Ranboo sighs again for what feels like the millionth time this night. He'd been dropped off at the Sparklez’s residence by his dads, Sam and Ponk. His brothers, Foolish and Dream, went to go look for Wilbur’s new foster brother who had run away last night, injured.

They all had a description and while Ranboo’s brother looked outside and his dads checked shop to shop for any sightings, Ranboo was stuck babysitting Tubbo and looking for the boy from the window. Tubbo’s siblings, Niki and Eret, joined Wilbur’s personal search party looking for the boy.

Tubbo’s dad, a guy called Captain Sparklez, was stuck at work and both the families had decided Ranboo was the perfect candidate for keeping Tubbo in check. Little did they know Tubbo would still pull his antics regardless of who’s watching him.

He is currently trying to climb out his bedroom window because he wants to go look for Wilbur’s brother him, once being a foster himself and being the same age as the infamous Tommy, he knows all the best places to look. Ranboo wants to help him, because he too is like this Tommy kid, but he also wants to listen to the adults.

However, seeing as Tubbo is as stubborn as a mule, it looks like Ranboo will have to babysit Tubbo while looking for a certain missing child. Sighing, he pulls Tubbo entirely back into the house.

“Move, I’ve got longer arms, so I can probably reach the tree easier.”

“See, I knew you’d come around, boss man!”

“Shut up, I’m only agreeing to help because it looks like you aren’t going to give up trying to escape and I can’t have you getting lost looking around.”

“Sure, whatever you say, big man. Did’ja reach the tree yet? I wanna get looking before noon since all the hiding spots Tommy may be at are kinda far away.”

“Yea, yea, I got it.”

Tubbo cheered as he and Ranboo climbed down the tree, one much more carefully than the other. They take one look at each other and immediately set off towards the woods, knowing that’s where they would go if they were on the run.

Honestly, it would be pretty smart to let them participate in the search. They know how to think like a scared foster kid and they are the same age as said kid, making them perfect for interacting with the boy.

(They ignore how their hearts twang at the thought of a blonde, scrawny teen the same age as them. They can’t get their hopes up, it’s been way too long and they know they will only be disappointed. Their charms weigh heavily in their pockets.)

Meanwhile, back at the Minecraft’s, the house is fucking falling apart. Usually, whenever Techno or Wil ran away, they would be found within the hour. However, Tommy has been gone all night and the family has already scoured out any potential hiding spots they thought of, yet to no avail.

It was a rather sleepless night with Wilbur pacing the floor, Phil stress cleaning, and Techno trying to control his urge to hurt something. Saying they were all a bit in disarray was an understatement.

Wilbur was in a fit of panic and was fully crying at this point, believing it was all his fault Tommy ran. Phil had to be dragged away from the door on multiple occasions to prevent him from flying and looking for his chick. Techno was trying to bide his time tending to his potatoes but had to stop because he felt he might cry if he saw his newly flourishing peace lilies again.

Oh god, this family was a mess.

They were obviously back to searching as soon as the sun rose, but they were running out of ideas. For all they knew, Tommy could be getting farther and farther away until no one would be able to catch up.

What they didn’t expect however, was for Tommy to calmly be sitting in a lush field. Surrounded by animals he was weaving flower crowns for. They let him pet them and sometimes even brought him trinkets, but Tommy was just fucking glad to be surrounded by so much nature.

He was connected to it, after all. It was like a piece of him just clicked here, safe in mother nature’s embrace and listening to her lullaby. He would be happy to spend the rest of his life in the woods, but he’d be lonely without frequent human interaction.

Tommy still needs people in his life and no one would be willing enough to spend their entire life with an annoying child in the woods, secluded from society. Tommy would also get antsy, waiting for something to happen to break his peaceful bubble.

So, in conclusion, Tommy would like to live in a place surrounded by people and drama, like L’Manberg, and he’d like frequent trips to the forest to calm the pull that demanded he be around nature. Imagine him being like a hybrid; halves of two worlds stuck in a body that demanded he be a part of both.

Dusting off his clothes, Tommy decided he’s had enough of the field. He bids the animals surrounding him goodbye and continues his walk in a random direction.

The sun was getting lower in the sky, time really flew when he was having fun, huh? Unbothered by the encroaching darkness, Tommy continued his walk into the thicket, Clem following on his heels.

It was well into the night now and Tommy was cold. He had picked a nice tall tree to sleep in where he could look at the stars, but that also meant he got less protection from the elements and watchful eyes of people.

Shivering, he sought out Clem to hug for warmth, despite knowing she couldn’t provide much. He couldn’t find her where he was grabbing blindly so he looked around to see her fucking resting on a much higher, thinner branch than him.

“What the fuck are you doing Clementine? I thought you were supposed to stick close to me?!” Tommy only got distressed chitters in response, looking around again to find four sets of red, beady eyes starting at him.

The eyes reflected the moonlight while the rest of the creature’s body perfectly blended into the shadows. Upon closer inspection, it was a very large mutant spider, not unlike Clem.

“Oh, hello,” he marveled softly, “hello, you went all the way up here to me!”

The spider chittered back at him and Tommy ignored the fact it was probably here to eat Clem. He always had a soft spot for bugs compared to all the other animals, and he decided he liked this spider a whole lot.

“What’s your name? I’m gonna call you Shroud!” he said giddily, already forming the soul bond. The bond would keep Shroud from attacking him or Clem at night and it would make Shroud a sort of guard dog. A really fucking scary guard dog.

When the bond was formed, Clem came down from her perch, no longer worried about being eaten, and cuddled up next to Tommy and Shroud. The two bugs made Tommy feel safe and he easily fell into a dreamless sleep.

He didn’t feel safe, however, when he woke up. This was probably due to the fact there were two bugs chewing in his clothes and dragging him dangerously close to the branch ledge. Frantically pulling himself towards more stable ground, Tommy glared at his two new friends.

He could exactly blame them since they probably haven’t eaten in a while, but there were honestly better wake up calls. Huffing, Tommy hauls himself down the tree and goes to grow some plants for Clem and grab some bugs for Shroud.

Tommy grabbed himself some fruit and the three eat in silence. The moon has barely changed positions since he last checked meaning Tommy took more of a short nap than a sleep.

He glared at his familiars when he estimated he only slept for about an hour, knowing fully well he won’t be able to fall back into unconsciousness. He was contemplating trying when he saw two flickers of light through the thicket.

Their voices were muffled but he knew there were two people coming in his direction. One had a significantly deeper voice than the other, their voice taking a more worried tone whilst the other seemed more excited. Now this made Tommy suspicious, because who the fuck is excited about being in the middle of the woods at midnight?

As they trekked closer, their voices and figures became more clear. One was a tall lanky fellow who owned the deep voice and the other a short brunette who owned the more relaxed voice.

“We’ve been searching these woods for hours man! Isn’t it time to give up and go home?” the tall one rumbled.

“Nope! I don’t care if we’ve been searching for an hour or ten years, we’re going to return with that boy. You and I both know he’s in here it’s just a matter of where.” the fucking tiny one replied.

“We started at, like, noon. It’s midnight and I’m tired.” Tommy felt bad for this lanky bitch—even if he was taller than Tommy, which is unacceptable—since the man did seem genuinely done with his whole situation.

“I. Don’t. Care.” was the reply he got, mirthful at the surface but taking on a scary undertone that made the other shut up.

Tommy wasn’t a pussy, so he didn’t hide from these unknown people. They sounded young and if it came to it, Tommy’s sure Shroud could easily take them.

They kept on approaching and Tommy kept ignoring the dread that creeped up his throat with every step they took in his direction. He was a big man; he could deal with these fuckers.

“Oh, look Ran! Is that a person?” ‘Ran’ didn’t answer, grumbling about some hallucination shit.

(Tommy ignored the pang of his heart when he heard the nickname. Even if the fuck was tall and sorta sounded like his Ran, he knew it wasn’t. It can’t be. Many people have the nickname Ran, right?)

“Hello, there! My name is Tubbo! This is Ranboo and we come in peace!” (The names perked Tommy’s interests, but there had to be many friend duos who ha the names ‘Tubbo’ and ‘Ranboo’, right? Right? He was honestly just denying the obvious now, but he can’t let himself hope. Hope hurts way more than grief.)

“Tubbo! Don’t talk to him like he’s an alien!”

“But he could be feral! We don’t know!”

Tommy sighed, the two bickered like an old married couple and he was tired of it. Ignoring his last statements and sentiments, he let himself hope—only because he wants to spite god and he does whatever the fuck he wants, not because of anything else.

“Tubso and Boob boy. Fancy seeing you here.” he interjected, integrating the old nicknames.

The two froze, silence stretching a bit too long as Tommy shifted under their tangible gazes. He might’ve broken them actually–

“…Theo?” Ranboo’s small broken voice called out.

“In the flesh.” Tommy called back, ignoring the slight tremor in his voice.

Suddenly, two large masses came charging at him, stealing him and the two bugs. Clem and Shroud hissed in surprise, poising for attack, but Tommy called them off.

He hugged his two best friends so tightly he felt as if he may break a few bones. No one mentions the tears all three of them shed, even with the trailmarks burning into a certain one of their faces.

“We thought you died.”

“I know.”

Tommy spends the next hour or so telling his best friends what had actually happened and answering their questions. How he hadn’t abandoned them but was taken by the government for his powers. How he escaped only to find the both of them adopted and gone.

The three cried together and Tommy introduced them to his new familiars. They joked and jested like old times and Tommy felt more at home than he had in a long time.

He grew them flowers and showed them the extent of his abilities, how he’d grown with them and got them more under control. The two were obviously thoroughly impressed with his skills and they confirmed they hadn’t told a soul about what he could do, not that Tommy thought they did.

Tommy began cleaning the evidence of powers off himself and walked around making sure there were no obvious traces of magic. Then, Tubbo mentioned that they were looking for a certain blond foster brother in passing and Tommy winced.

“Yea, that’s me, big man.”

“What? You’re Wil’s new brother? I thought you were against families like us? We only got picked up by them because we were desperate.”

“Of course I’m against families, but the lady who told me you both were adopted figured out I was homeless and forced me into her care. You thought I just happened to be sitting in the woods while people look for another blond teen? No, that’s fucking me.” Tommy rolled his eyes, sometimes his friends were as dense as bricks.

“Well, I don’t know! You got your whole nature gig, so maybe you just live in the woods like some witch!” Tubbo tried to defend, Ranboo barely holding back a snort as Tubbo shot him daggers.

Tommy laughed at the scene and Tubbo’s gaze softened. They all truly missed one another, but it was getting late. Plus, now they knew they all lived close by, so they could hang out later.

“We should probably bring you home, Theo. Your fosters are worried sick.” Ranboo interjected.

“Hmph, fine, but only because I left our matching charms at their house. You still have yours, right?” Tommy’s voice was hopeful.

“Of course, boss man. We wouldn’t lose them for the world.” Tubbo replied genuinely.

“And oh, did the world try.” Ranboo snorted from beside them, sending them all in a fit of giggles despite Tommy not even knowing what he meant.

The trio got up and started walking back in the direction Tubbo and Ranboo came, idly chattering about what had happened since they last spoke. They had a lot to catch up on, after all.

The talking helped Tommy push down the nerves in his stomach as he made his way back to the house. He’d been gone for a while and even with his brothers and familiars there with him, he still felt the bile rise in his throat as he neared the building.

Oh well, Tommy would be fine.

Hopefully.

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Chapter Text

Tommy would not be fine.

He is currently standing awkwardly in front of Phil’s door just like he had a couple days ago. Except this time, he wasn’t meeting the family, but returning to them.

Ranboo kept reassuring Tommy that it would be alright and the family wouldn’t be mad, but it wasn’t very helpful due to the fact the lanky bitch looked extremely tense himself. Tubbo had left the group prior to reaching the house to go do damage control.

He had to go tell his and Ranboo’s families that they were, in fact, not kidnapped and had to go tell everyone they could stop searching for Tommy. Honestly, if Tubbo were still here he’d already have pushed the two pussies through the door, though Tommy isn’t sure if that would be a good thing or not.

Tommy took a deep breath, steeled his nerves, and walked through the front door with his head held high. Ranboo followed a bit more sheepishly, crouching over like that would actually make him look smaller.

The two familiars were perched on Tommy’s head and back; Shroud clinging to him like a backpack and Clem like a hat. As he entered past the foyer, three pairs of eyes snapped to him in an instant, sharp enough to cut diamonds.

Tommy almost, almost shrunk under their gaze like Ranboo did, but he could never submit to someone so insignificant so he immediately straightened back up. He was about to say something when Wilbur came barreling into him, babbling something about Tubbo telling them the news and about how sorry he was; Tommy wasn’t really listening.

Phil and Techno came ambling over next, Phil futzing over him like a child and Techno giving him a one-over for any injuries. Tommy was getting overwhelmed with all this physical attention, so he pushed Phil and Wil away from him.

“Wow, missed me that much, eh?”

“Of fucking course, mate! You’ve been gone for days!” Tommy and Ranboo winced at Phil’s words.

“Where did you even find the gremlin, anyway, Ranboo?” Techno drawled from his spot leaning on the wall.

“Me and Tubbo found him eating in the middle of the forest.”

Just then, Tubbo came charging into the room, knocking Ranboo over.

“Yea! We found Theo munching on some fruit in a clearing with his new friends.”

“Wha- Where do you even find those things? Who’s Theo? So many questions.” Wilbur sputtered dramatically, finally noticing the bugs perched on Tommy.

“These aren’t things, you bitch! Their names are Clementine and Shroud, respectfully.” Tommy gestures to the bugs.

“Theo? Theseus? The kid you guys are fostering? He’s literally right there.” Tubbo cuts in quickly, both him and Ranboo perplexed at the last question.

“Oh, uh, it’s Tommy now. I changed it from, uh, Theseus so those arseholes don’t find me in the system.” Tommy coughs, shifting under everyone’s intense gazes; two of pity and three of pure confusion.

“Wait, ignoring all the implications of that sentence, your birth name is Theseus?” Techno asks with a glint in his eye as everyone else in the room groans, collectively ignoring him.

Phil ushers them into the kicthen to eat, everyone obviously ignoring all the questions that have just popped up, not wanting to push Tommy’s boundaries but still very curious. Tommy sighs through a mouthful of food and decides to help them out a bit.

He tells the family he was childhood best friends with Tubbo and Ranboo, but they got separated when they were taken in by the foster system, running up the stairs to show them their matching charms. He claims that his birth name was Theseus, but he changed it to Thomas when he was taken in by the system since he didn’t want them finding any records on him.

A few lies are thrown into the mix and Tommy leaves out the parts of his stories where he’s living on the streets barely scraping by and when he’s taken by the government for his magic. The family gets the gist of what generally happened without any too incriminating stuff.

Tommy tells them about how his bruises came from past foster homes, which they expected, but still made Techno’s hands clench in rage, only stopping when Tommy shied away. They get introduced properly to the large spider and moth Tommy has befriended, the three magic users noting down the bugs’ magical aura.

Tommy obviously leaves out how he got the bugs to be his friend, but the three can feel the power radiating off them, not that they know why. The questions are brushed off when Shroud creeps up to Wilbur and the man practically falls off his chair trying to get away, all of them laughing at his blunder.

Eventually, Tubbo and Ranboo have go home and no one brings up the escape again, though everyone’s a bit more clingy towards Tommy. He doesn't mention the three hovering, knowing they just want to make sure he doesn’t bolt again now that his friends have left.

(Tommy notices Wil is especially nice, looking guilty despite Tommy being the one who should apologize. Then again, everyone’s a bit weird right now.)

Phil gets Tommy to let him visually address his ribs and ankle, wincing at the state of them. He gives Tommy some items and walks him through treating his injuries so no one will have to touch him. Tommy appreciates the gesture.

With his newly bandaged self, Tommy settles down on the couch with the others to watch a movie: Up, at his insistence. About halfway through, Techno gets up and leaves through the back door, claiming he has business to attend to at this hour. He’s back by the time the movie ends, looking much more relaxed than earlier and with his blouse stained a suspicious auburn.

Tommy’s too bleary to question anything at this point and he’s had a long day, so he falls asleep curled up between Phil and Wilbur, very content with how the day went. He got to see Tubs and Ran again and his new family isn’t mad at him for running.

It’s a very good day for Tommy Innit.

The saga continues when Tommy wakes up to the smell of pancakes. Immediately, he realizes he’s not in his bedroom but rather on the couch. There’s a drooling Wilbur next to him and a snoring Technoblade on the carpet, both completely passed out with a serious case of bed-head.

He doesn’t really bother getting presentable after seeing the twins’ state. He sorta just runs his hand through his hair and deemsit good enough. Wincing as he stood, Tommy focuses his magic to find out where Shroud and Clem are.

Currently, they were a little ways away in a forest clearing eating something. They would be safe there, so Tommy relaxes and decides to go fetch them later, focusing on his own stomach. After last night’s fiasco, Tommy was pleasantly surprised that no one was treating him any different prior to running. Maybe just a little more wary, if anything.

He always hated when he ran and people would patronize him, treating him like he would shatter at any moment. This family was different, though, and Tommy enjoyed not having them walk on eggshells around him.

They hadn’t really addressed last night, but the family mostly understood what had happened: Tommy freaked out, Wilbur yelled at him which caused more freaking out, and he ran. Well, the family knew more than Tommy in the sense that they knew why Wilbur’s yelling caused so much fear, but that was neither here nor there.

They didn’t even need to discuss what triggered it! Even though they tried to get Tommy to talk about it, he just brushed them off like he usually did, as a big man should. They knew the trigger was people being near and touching Tommy’s injuries, so why discuss it? It’s not like Tommy would tell them why those are his triggers. He can deal just fine.

(Tommy knew it wasn’t healthy. He knew they wanted to get to the bottom of the triggers so they could help him heal, but he can’t tell them. How do you tell your fosters that the reason you don’t like people touching your wounds is because the white coats loved to prod his injuries to see how his powers would react? How they would coil around him and any bearing hands? You don’t just tell someone that. They dropped the subject. Tommy can deal on his own, even if he doesn't want to.)

He finds Phil making pancakes, as he predicted, and quietly sits down at the table to wait for him to finish up, successfully scaring the shit out of him once again. The food is delicious, as always, and he gets a head start on consuming the fluffy hotcakes before Wil and Tech.

Speak of the devil, the twins come into the kitchen looking disheveled as ever. They look slightly panicked and their movements are jerky as they look around the room, relaxing when they see Tommy.

“What pissed in your bed, fuckers?”

“Wha-,” Wilbur squawked, “we were just worried you were gone again!”

“Jeez, calm your tits. I don’t leave without reason, motherfucker, and don’t you think Phil would be competent enough to keep an eye on me? Or did you think he was too old?” Tommy said as he squashed down the feeling of guilt.

“Oh, you little shit. I’m not that old!”

“Wouldn’t be too sure ‘bout that Phil.” Techno chimed in, an amused smile pulling at his lips.

Phil only glares in response.

Wilbur cackles as he and Techno sit at the table, indulging themselves in the now-cool pancakes. They haven’t even gotten dressed or anything and both look ready to drop-dead at any moment, despite just waking up.

“Ya know, Wilbur’s head kinda reminds me of a mop.” Tommy begins as Wilbur almost hits his head on the table in the way he’s falling asleep. The man is immediately fully awake, snapping back to reality to give Tommy an incredulous look.

“What the fuck does that mean, child?”

“Oh, ya know, the hair kinda looks like the brush part of a mop or broom and you’re all tall and shit, like a stick. Makes you look like a mop.”

Techno snorted and Phil failed to suppress a chuckle. Wilbur looked scandalized and said as such. They spent the next five minutes arguing on it, Wilbur bringing out all the theatrics.

“Alright, alright, boys. We have to go shopping today, remember? You all should go get ready.” Phil said, cutting off another dramatic Wilbur spiel.

Tommy most definitely did not forget about the shopping trip he was dreading. No sir, not at all.

He totally forgot.

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Chapter Text

Tommy wasn’t nervous, contrary to popular belief. He was totally fine.

So what if he didn’t like loud, populated spaces or spending money on anything not necessary? He’d be fine.

Ok, maybe Tommy was slightly freaking out, but that’s only because Shroud and Clem weren’t with him and being away from his familiars made him queasy. It also could have been because he was now facing the largest fucking shopping mall he’s ever seen, but of course not, Tommy is a big man.

Wilbur spared him a concerned glance when he saw Tommy’s leg bouncing uncontrollably, but quickly turned away to follow Phil, who was already walking to the mall. Phil was rambling about all the things they needed to buy and the sheer size of the list of things for Tommy wasn’t helping his nerves.

Tommy hated buying things because: 1) that meant attachments and attachments were always lost, left behind, or taken away, 2) he was used to the bare minimum and always saved every scrap of money he could, and 3) people spending money on him meant he was indebted to them, which wasn’t good. So, yea, Tommy didn’t like shopping with new fosters.

Now, granted, Tommy did need new stuff, but he could manage until he saved up his own money. He didn’t need Phil to buy him things, but the man simply wouldn’t take no for an answer. Tommy has suggested it several times by now.

In what felt like forever and no time at all, they reached the glass doors of the mall. Entering, the family was immediately swarmed with a horde of people, Tommy almost losing Phil in the crowds.

Luckily, Techno sensed his distress and gently grasped his wrist and led him to an area with less people. Tommy was already overwhelmed and he’d been here for five fucking seconds; this is going to suck.

Following the group, Tommy entered a seemingly expensive clothing store. Wilbur immediately began browsing the isles excitedly while a bored Techno followed him.

“You can go look, mate. If you don’t know what to buy I’m sure Wilbur can help you. He’s big on fashion.” Phil said to Tommy.

Tommy just nodded, intimidated by the store itself. He went to tail Wilbur who immediately began handing him clothes that might look good on him. The man was babbling nonsensically, carefully plucking shirts and pants off the clothing racks.

“Ooo–what about this, Tommy? Or would this look better–wait, you should get this. Hm, maybe this color is better–” he rambled, the pile of clothes in Tommy’s arms growing at a rapid pace. Tommy looked at the prices of some of it and almost fainted, so he elected to ignore that and hope Wilbur knew what he was doing.

“Ok, so! Out of what I handed you, which ones do you like best? Or should we just get them all?” Wilbur said with a glint in his eye, grinning excitedly.

“Oh, we don’t need these all,” Tommy said quickly, “but I like the more brightly colored ones.”

“Ok! Do you prefer reds or blues?” Wilbur said, taking some of the duller clothes off Tommy’s hands.

(Tommy let out a breath when he was no longer holding any whites. White reminded too much of the white coats. Of how the stupid bodysuit he was forced to wear was white, slightly reminiscent of a prison jumpsuit. Tommy doesn’t mind clothes with white on them, hell, his favorite red and white baseball tee was mostly white. Tommy just hated anything completely and blindingly white.)

“Uh, maybe reds?” Tommy said with a lilt in his voice, unsure.

“Alright, I’ll keep a few blues in there that I think you’ll like, but the rest will be reds.” Wilbur said, his grin never leaving his face.

Techno gave an approving grunt at the final selection and Wilbur pushed Tommy into a changing room to try on the clothes. One by one, Tommy tried on the shirts and came out to show the twins. Phil had gone off to do his own thing, leaving the three kids to wreak chaos.

The pile of shirts narrowed down and soon it consisted of a blue sweater, a red long-sleeve, and a light maroon t-shirt. There were also some jeans thrown into the mix, but those were tested more for fit than for fashion.

The prices on the clothes made Tommy queasy, but the twins didn’t seem to bat an eye so Tommy didn’t mention it. Phil returned from god knows where and he let the cashier ring up their clothes, paying without any issue.

Tommy sighed in relief. Finally, they were done; all he wants to do right now is curl up in bed and let the guilt of buying things consume him. Phil had other plans.

“Now all we need are school supplies, items for Tommy’s room, and whatever else you boys want to buy!”

Tommy was going to be sick.

The family had dragged Tommy off to go buy school supplies. The thought of school made him want to die, but at least there wasn’t much guilt or indecision in shopping since he knew fosters were technically obliged to provide all the things needed for schooling. The most he would have to do it decide between two fucking three-ring binders or something.

Oh, but it got worse.

They then went on to buy things for Tommy’s room and the guilt crashed into him like a dump truck. He didn’t need to decorate his room with meaningless items, but the twins insisted he buy things.

(Decorations indicate permanence and Tommy knew he wasn’t here to stay. Even if he wanted to. He knew this was only a temporary placement he was put in during an emergency and eventually they would ship him back. Decorations would make it all the harder to leave and hurt all the more when they were taken or destroyed. God, how’d he get so fucking attached to these idiots?)

He ended up getting two music disks—one called cat, the other mellohi—a picture frame for his polaroid photo, a ugly lamp he put in the cart as a joke, and some figurines he liked. The twins then got to decide where they were going next.

Wilbur took them to a music store where he ended up trying just about every instrument only to end up buying a set of guitar strings. Techno took them to a book store where he bought some thick fucking book on boring science shit or something.

They went to the food court to have lunch, per Phil’s suggestion, leaving the twins and Tommy to get the food. He handed them a wad of cash and gave them a weary smile as he left, asking them not to cause too much trouble. That leads to this predicament: what the fuck are they supposed to get?

“I’m tellin’ you Wil, no one wants to eat nasty grease patties for lunch.”

“You bitch! They’re burgers. Burgers. No one wants to eat fucking raw fish!”

“You only say that because you fucked a fish!”

“How about we let Tommy decide? This whole trip was for him after all!”

The twins turned their gaze to Tommy, who honestly didn’t know what the fuck was happening and what the fuck Tech meant when he said Wil fucked a fish.

“I have no idea what they even serve here.” Tommy began.

“Well, the Japanese place serves some good sushi rolls, udon noodles, and some cooked foods.” Techno droned.

“On the flip side,” Wilbur started, “the burger joint here serves these really good burgers that pair really well with their milkshakes.”

“Milkshakes? What the fuck are those?” Tommy inquired, making the twins stop and turn at Tommy’s words.

“You–you don’t know?” Wilbur asks, a horrified expression painting his face.

“Well–uh–”

“Techno, we’re going to the burger place. There are more dire matters at hand than what we’re going to eat. This kid needs a milkshake. Now.” Wilbur’s words left no room for arguments, not that Techno made any. He just stared, dumbfounded, at Tommy as he followed Wil.

Wil grabbed Tommy’s hand and began to drag him towards the burger joint. He sputtered out his order and they added a set of milkshakes to all their meals. Wil kept dragging Tommy by the hand as the kid just fumbled around behind him, eyes wide as saucers.

“No–Wil, you don’t need to–” he began once he found his voice.

“Shush, child.” the twins said unanimously, leaving Tommy, once again, sputtering in their wake.

Retrieving their food, they go find Phil who’s reserved them a little corner table. He raises his eyebrows at the large milkshakes decorating their tray.

“Phil, Tommy’s never had a milkshake before.” Wil tells him before he can ask, Techno nods grimly from behind.

“It’s not that big of a deal, guys.” Tommy says as he rolls his eyes.

“No, no. This is an offense of the deepest level.” Phil gasps dramatically, while Tommy freezes at his words. Was he in trouble? God, that was the last straw, wasn’t it, all for a stupid fucking milkshake–

A nudge from Tech cuts off his spiraling and Tommy sits down, now noticing the kind, amused smile Phil is wearing. Ah, it was a joke. Pricks.

They dig into their food and Tommy hesitantly takes a sip of his shake. Everyone’s watching him what the actual fuck–holy shit this is good.

Wilbur giggles as Tommy’s eyes widen and he inhales more of his shake. They can’t blame him, though, they were the same way when they had their first milkshakes. Those shits are banging.

They finish their meal rather quickly and Tommy gets an extra milkshake to go. He can’t even feel bad these things are so good. Since the twins are getting bored and Phil has nothing else on his list, the family heads back to the car.

Holy shit, it’s finally over. Tommy breathes out a sigh of relief once he gets in the car. Techno has control of the aux cord this time, so that means the car will play boring classical music the whole way home. At least it’s easy to block out and Tommy can sleep.

Getting home, Tommy’s ushered to go decorate his room with his new items. He insisted they help Phil bring in the other items, but the twins already had pushed him up the stairs.

Tommy hung the music disks on his wall above his bed. He put the polaroid into the frame and put it on his desk, propping his other two charms up on it. The ugly lamp was placed on a shelf so that it could spotlight the desk if ever used, but it was more of a decorative lamp anyway. The figurines decorated the shelves and desk, tying the room together, in Tommy’s expert opinion.

Lastly, the twins both surprised him with a beautiful potted plant to put in the corner of his room. Techno remembered how much Tommy liked his garden so they decided to get him his own plant. Tommy fucking loved it and he itched to bless the thing with his powers.

The room was a lot more…homely. It was a lot more Tommy. Seeing this as a former street rat brought tears to his eyes, ones he was quickly to wipe away. Wilbur was staring at him with a goofy grin that told Tommy he knew he liked it. Techno was similar with a side-eye smirk.

“Welcome home, Theseus.”

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Chapter Text

They went downstairs shortly after, meeting Phil in the kitchen. The foster father had already brought in the rest of the shopping bags and he started making dinner.

“Phil, Phil! Tommy cried when he saw his amazing room!” Wilbur tattled.

“You bitch! I most definitely did not! In fact, I think you were the one who was crying!” Tommy screeched, the tips of his ears turning red.

“He was not.” Techno teased, giving Tommy the biggest shit-eating smirk.

“Whatever.” Tommy mumbled, burying his face into his hands. “It’s not my fault you arseholes.”

“Aw, Tommy, mate. You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s a bit concerning that you cried over your room, though. It doesn’t even have that many things yet since you were dead set about spending the least amount of money.” Phil cooed, chuckling at the memory of the stubborn teen.

“Yea, yea. It’s just–the room is so, well, me. If you were to tell 6 year old Tommy he would have his own room one day—not even just a roof over his head—he would’ve called you crazy.” the blonde mumbled. “I was just some homeless kid, after all.”

“Oh, mate.” Phil rumbled, pulling Tommy into a loose hug. Fledgling sad? Fledgling happy? Fledgling ok? Phil’s hindbrain chanted, demanding he comfort the teary boy, but not wanting to upset him more with the physical contact.

Luckily, Tommy didn’t seem to mind the close contact, burrowing further into Phil’s arms. Wilbur and Techno joined the hug soon after, coddling the new addition to their family.

Yep, they’re planning on officially adopting him—especially since two of their hindbrains have already—but they can’t tell him just yet. Tommy is clearly hiding something from them and they want to make sure Tommy trusts them enough to be adopted. Not to mention they are hiding things from him too.

Oh, if only they knew their secrets are the same. Right now, however, they’re all content in one another’s arms. Phil’s flock is together, as they should be.

Dinner is a comfortable affair since everyone is already worn out from the day, especially after the lastest excursion. There’s no teasing after Tommy’s saddening revelation and Phil has to restrain himself from several trills and chirps.

His bird-brain wants to wrap his family in his wings, reassuring them and keeping them safe in his nest, but he doubts Tommy will allow that. For now, Phil tries to be content just being around his family, everyone surprisingly domestic.

Unlike Techno, who murdered the previous fosters who hurt Tommy, Phil can’t satisfy his voices with behind-the-scenes bloodshed. His instincts demand more physical comfort for his flock, or as Wil would call it: they demand more mother-hening.

Speaking of Wil, even though he already considers Tommy his family, he’s the only one without any hindbrain voices, meaning he also has no direct help from his powers. It’s both a blessing and a curse, a double-sided coin, as most things associated with powers are.

When they finish eating, everyone settles on the couch to watch a movie and Tommy’s deadname slips out of Techno’s mouth again. However, this time Tommy isn’t smiling with tears of joy in his eyes.

No, this time he fucking freezes. The panic is clear in his face when his eyes meet Techno’s. Tommy’s hands are shaking and Phil’s half concerned he’s going to bolt again.

Staring Techno dead in the eyes, Tommy fixed him with an expression of horror, shock, and fear. Techno couldn’t lie, he was a bit terrified of the boy at that moment.

“Never, and I mean never, call me by that name in the presence of anyone besides Ranboo and Tubbo. If you do, there will be fucking dire consequences to pay.” he said softly but sternly, unable to keep the tremor out of his voice.

Techno didn’t bother verbally answering and instead just gave Tommy a jerky nod. That seemed to satisfy Tommy as he sat down without another word, calming down from his panic.

Wilbur and Phil share a look, deciding that there’s definitely something wrong. Tommy didn’t act that way when Tubbo and Ranboo called him Theo, meaning there’s something about his full birth name that sets him off.

Fuck, this boy is an enigma. They love him, but damn this kid has so many layers. Wilbur loves to find out more secrets, Techno is getting more suspicious of the kid, and Phil is just a concerned dad trying his best. This kid will be the death of them.

After the movie, Wilbur ushered a very sleepy Tommy into bed. He creeped down the stairs and rejoined his family, silencing any noise that may reach the boy’s door.

“He’s hiding something.” the brunette said as he sat down.

“Hiding a whole lot of somethings more like.” Phil sighed.

“I made a list–”

“Of course you did. You're suspicious as hell, wanting to know all the kid's secrets immediately instead of letting him unravel on his own. You used to have your own secrets too.” Wilbur snarked at Techno, who paid him no mind.

“I made a list of all the things that are suspicious or unusual. I get that foster kids have a lot of problems and mental baggage, but these things are especially out of the ordinary. The kid doesn't like his full birth name being used for some reason, but he’s alright with his nickname. Next, I’m not gonna lie, the kid has some…strange choices in pets, not to mention the animals are very attached to him and reek of magic. He’s scarily good at hiding and is more perceptive than anyone I have met, already catching on to my sensitive hearing and making himself quieter around me. Actually, on that note, he’s eerily quieter than any human should be and he’s so precise with all his movements. There’s probably more, but I don’t have those written down.”

“Thank you, Techno. What would we do without your sharp eyes.” Phil smiles wearily, trying to process all the new information his son has provided.

“He also doesn’t like anything, like, really white.” Wilbur chimes as his family turns to him. “He looked mildly disgusted and kind of scared when I handed him any white clothes; he was quick to hand those back to me.”

They all nodded, Phil rubbing at his temples. This new fledgling was going to give him grey hairs.

“Wait, why don’t we just ask Tubbo and Ranboo? They were childhood friends.”

“Nope, absolutely not.” Tubbo said sternly, Ranboo wringing his hands together behind him.

“But Tubbo,” Wilbur whined, stretching out the ‘o’, “we wanna know!”

“I’ll admit the story we told you wasn’t 100% true, but we can’t tell you the real story. It’s horrific, and Tommy lived through it! Me and Ran don’t even know the whole thing!”

“Wait, the story you told us isn’t what actually happened?” Techno drawled.

“Uh, uh, you guys gotta leave now! We got big shit to do, sorry! You didn’t hear shit from us! We didn’t say anything!” the two exclaimed as the scrambled to push the trio out the door, leaving them dumbfounded on the front porch.

“Well, that didn’t work.” Techno said.

“Yeah, I see that Captain Obvious! Now we just have more questions! What in their story was true and what was bullshit?!” Wilbur exclaimed.

“At least we know not to believe everything he says about his past?” Phil points out and Wilbur just groans into his arms.

They don’t want to prod, well, minus Techno, he wants to prod. Everyone has their own secrets and Tommy is entitled to his, but they do need to know what happened to Tommy. They need to know what trauma he possesses so they can help him heal.

Head in their hands, the three go home defeated and find Tommy sprawled out on their couch doing something on his phone. He’s belly-down with Shroud situated between his propped-up elbows and Clementine perched on his head. It’s ridiculously endearing.

Tommy waves to them cheerily from his spot on the couch and maybe, maybe figuring out the boy’s secrets can wait.

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Chapter Text

Tommy planned to meet up with Tubs and Ran today, but Wilbur had other plans. He dragged the blonde out of bed way too fucking early, that’s ignoring the fact the first two days Tommy was up way before him.

He was thrown into a heap on the kitchen floor, right by Techno who was seated at the table sipping coffee like his life depended on it. The man seemed exasperated, but resigned, so this must happen a lot. Phil sent Tommy an apologetic smile and slid a plate of eggs over to him, making him get up and sit at the actual table.

Tommy grumbled as he dug into his plate, sending Techno an empathetic smile as he was sure Wil did the same thing to the man. Glaring at Wilbur, he asked what the special occasion was that the house needed to be up at 8 in the morning.

“You gotta meet my friends, gremlin! They’re the ones that helped look for you. Don’t worry, Tubbo and Ranboo will be there too.” he chirped, way too chipper for 8 am.

“Don’t call me that; and why do we have to meet them at 8 am?” Tommy grumbled.

“We don’t, the meetup is at 11. Wil is just a bitch and wants us to be ready.” Techno complained from his seat, scowling at Wilbur.

Tommy face-planted himself into the table. Well, at least he got to meet up with his friends, right?

After hours of Wilbur being a micromanager and complaining that everything had to be perfect, they were finally ready to go. Phil was staying home to do his old man shit, leaving Techno and Tommy to fend for themselves. Phil smirked from the kitchen. What a bitch.

They ended up being dragged to the park, where the rest of the party was already waiting. There were quite a few people and Tommy was nervous, but Techno seemed to have no qualms with them so Tommy assumed it’d be fine.

Techno slid into a seat next to a person with pink hair like him, she introduced herself as Niki, Tubbo’s and Eret’s sister. Eret ended up being a genderfluid person with a fucking deep voice and imposing height that rivaled Ranboo’s; good thing big men don’t get scared.

Wilbur sat by some furry-ass looking bitch that was also a ginger—yikes. Tommy decided he just had to point this out and the whole table dissolved into laughter as the man sputtered, starting to scream when Wilbur whispered ‘good furry’ in his ear.

The man seemed ready to square up—which Tommy was happy to do—but was pinned down by a bald weirdo with headphones and 3D glasses. The man introduced himself as Jack through his giggles.

Next was Ranboo’s siblings: Dream, a weird-ass motherfucker with an ugly neon green hoodie and a creepy smiley mask, and Foolish, a pretty normal dude besides the obvious gold and shark obsession. Tommy did his part and glared at the siblings, but he couldn’t stay mad at Niki since she offered him a fucking good tasting cookie.

The others, though? Not Tommy approved, so when Tubbo and Ranboo looked over to him he shot them an unimpressed look. Ranboo sighed deeply as if he expected this, while Tubbo took more drastic measures and slammed his head into the picnic table.

Tommy raised one eyebrow as everyone started fussing over him and Tubbo began to sob uncontrollably, though it was obviously fake as far as Tommy could tell. No one else seemed to think this and Tommy wondered how long they’d truly know the boy.

“Tommy, your best friend is crying and you’re just stood there! Do something!” Wilbur calls, rubbing circles in the small of Tub’s back.

“Oh my god, he’s just being a baby because his new siblings don’t have the Tommy seal of approval. He’ll stop once he knows you know.” Tommy retorted as he rolled his eyes.

As if on cue, Tubbo stopped sobbing and fixed him with the most infuriated glare a man of his stature could. Short people contain so much fucking rage, man, it’s insane.

“You motherfucker! Why’d you have to call me out like that?!” Tubbos shrieked, but Tommy just stuck his tongue out at him.

“What’s the Tommy seal of approval?” Eret questioned.

“Exactly what’s on the tin, big man.” Tommy replied, and Eret nodded.

“How does one get the Tommy seal of approval?” Dream piped.

“It’s like, impossible. He’s got, like, trust issues and trauma.” Ranboo groaned at his brother, who nodded to himself like Eret did. “Oh, you better not be making this a competition, Dream.”

“I always love a challenge.” Dream said in such a way you could hear the smirk he wore under his mask, which was fucking weird.

Ranboo groaned again, Tubbo patting his back with mock sympathy. Tommy snickered, going to lean on his tall friend who looped a lanky arm around him. The whole scene was honestly adorable, but was ruined when they heard a camera click from behind them.

Whipping their heads around, the three find Foolish standing there with his phone out, grinning wickedly sharp. Immediately, the trio begins sputtering and attempting to grab the camera, but Foolish was faster.

The man passed around his phone to keep it out of reach and it became a twisted game of football. Everyone was laughing and crashing into one another, attempting to grab the phone or pass it.

They all ended up in a heap on the floor and Tommy was laughing harder than he had in a long time. He truly felt at home here, and he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

On one hand, he’s found people he loves, his best friends, and he’s happier than he’s been in forever. He doesn’t want to lose his best friends—his brothers—again and he doesn’t want to leave his new family, his new home.

On the other hand, he’s putting the ones he loves in danger, merely by existing. He’s grown attached and so have they, making it so much harder when he has to leave. Not to mention the pain he’d feel if they sent him back.

It’s all too much and if he keeps thinking about it it’ll ruin his day, so, for now, all he’ll do is enjoy the amount of time he spends here. Tommy knows to never take a second for granted.

Tubbo drags him with the group to go get ice cream, unbeknownst to Tommy’s inner turmoil, rambling about the flavors and how good they are. The shop is quaint, but still popular, with a line coming out the door.

Normally, Tommy hates waiting, but the engaging conversation around him and everyone’s silly antics kept him distracted enough that he barely even noticed they were next. Looking around the inside of the shop, Tommy noticed the walls are covered in homely photos and pastel colors.

There are little trinkets littered around and everything is clean, but not overwhelmingly so. The place screams ‘family owned’ and looks like it has a knack for putting you at ease. Not to mention the people look generally friendly and cheerful.

He gets a strawberry cone, much to the dismay of Tubbo who insists he get one of the more exotic flavors. Eret seems to approve, though, getting strawberry ice cream themselves.

They all hang out a while longer, Dream failing miserably at kissing up to Tommy. Eventually, Techno drags Wilbur home and Tommy practically faints onto the couch. Who knew socializing was so fucking tiring? At least he likes Wilbur’s friends.

(He ignores how Dream’s fake words used to try and get on his good side stung. He knows it’s an act and Dream has no intention of hurting him, but the words were scarily familiar.

His diplomatic words and manipulating way of speaking, whether intentional or not, reminded Tommy of a dictator with a sharp tongue that never faltered no matter how much alcohol he consumed. How he would start off sweet, but would taper into bitterness and frustration.

Ranboo trusts the man, though, and Tommy will deal with him if only for his friend’s sake. He just has to stay distant to keep himself from shaking too much.)

Tommy’s spiral was interrupted by a rude-ass bitch who decided Tommy’s back was the perfect place for a rest. Fucking Wilbur is sitting on him, matching Tommy’s glare with a goofy grin.

“Aw, is Tommy tired?” he teased. “Does the child need a nap?”

“Wil, leave Tommy alone. You already dragged him out of bed at 8 am to meet your friends.” Phil reprimanded lightly, as Tommy turned his face back into the couch and mumbled incomprehensibly.

“What was that, child?”

“I said you are the fattest fucking giraffe and you should get off me before I get scoliosis.” Tommy snarled as Wilbur sputtered, Techno snickering in the background.

Wilbur begrudgingly did get off, huffing the whole time like a pouty seal. Tommy would be sure to mock him later for it, preferably tomorrow when he doesn’t feel like he’s going to drop dead from exhaustion.

Oh, if only he knew there wouldn’t be a tomorrow, he’d remember how no seconds are to be taken for granted.

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Chapter Text

Tommy woke up with a feeling of foreboding. Flowers were blooming all down his torso and up his neck; all of them with bad meanings. Quickly, Tommy threw on a baggy sweatshirt to cover the things and ran downstairs.

He needed to make sure they weren’t hurt. His family can’t be hurt. No, no, this can’t be happening. He won’t let it. It can’t, it can’t, it can’t.

“Phil! Techno! Wilbur! Where are you?!” Tommy yells across the house as he runs down the stairs, tears welling in his eyes. No immediate response, he keeps trying.

He needs confirmation. That’s it’s them. That they found him and it’s not just a false call. That the three just didn’t go out shopping or some shit.

They weren’t supposed to find him. He covered his tracks, his name, his powers. Had they known this whole time? Were they just watching him to wait for the perfect moment where he let his walls down and got attached?

Was it when he used his powers in the woods? When Technoblade called him Theseus? Did they just find him by sheer luck? This isn’t luck, it’s a fucking curse.

The house is empty, no one returns Tommy’s call. He runs around frantically, opening every door and looking in every hiding place. They wouldn’t do this to him, right? This is probably some sick joke Wilbur came up with.

There’s a note. It’s on the kitchen counter. Tommy’s almost afraid to go read it, but it’s probably just a note saying that Phil went to the store, right? That they’d be home soon with breakfast to joke with him and ruffle his hair. Tommy’s hands shake.

Creeping closer, Tommy tentatively reaches out for the note. When he picks it up he immediately drops it like it’s fucking acid burning through his skin; he supposes it’s not much different. Hot tears start to roll down his face and Tommy can feel his powers growing and coiling around him in a makeshift hug.

On the card, two spiraling ram horns are depicted, framing the card’s edges like a fancy border. The horns mock him, shifting into the face of a man Tommy never wants to see again. A man with a gaze so power-hungry it would make the greediest kings cower.

Tommy knows that symbol, it was branded into the back of the neck of his shirt for years, always covered by his curly locks in defiance. His hand ghosts over the spot, fingers light as he feels phantom pains pulsing through his skin. The white coats standing and watching him writhe during punishments, indifferent to his screams of pain.

Those horns are the ones that haunt his dreams, reminding of how he was treated like a dog, underfed and beaten into shape. Manipulated into being codependent and prodded like a science experiment; he supposed he was, for them at least.

This dog was different, though. He is not an animal easily tamed, an animal you can win over with food, disregarding the pain brought onto it. This dog bit the hand that feeds it. This dog was one of defiance, a dog you strengthened only so it could stab you in the back.

Oh, and one thing about dogs: you do not mess with their pack. Tommy picked up the card again, reading it thoroughly.

It essentially told him they had his family and best friends, making Tommy see red. The vines around his torso tightened in anger and he quickly pinpointed where the location on the card was.

It wasn’t the facility—thank god—but rather in the middle of a grassy field. What do they think they’re playing at here? Do they intend to beat him at his own game? Fuck them, their traps are shit, but Tommy doesn’t really have a choice right now.

Grabbing a handkerchief to cover his neck for any plants, Tommy rushes out the door in the direction of the field. A fierce protectiveness curls in his gut as he gets closer to the pull of nature, to the pull of his pack.

He breaks into a sprint when he hits the tree line and slows when he gets to the clearing. There tied up with magic-blocking cuffs are his family. Tommy notices Tubbo and Ranboo don’t have the cuffs, meaning Tommy’s family is magical.

Tommy’s heart flutters. Having a magical family means they could actually accept all of him. That he doesn’t have to leave them or hide his flowers in their presence. It means he could actually be loved, but now’s not the time to fantasize. He can’t have a family if they all die.

The white coats are around the five, still in their prestigious clothing, speaking to each other with solemn faces. Oh, and there he is. The man with the metaphorical horns, the one who haunts Tommy’s dreams like a demon in the dark, always watching him with a wicked glare.

He’s the one that caused this whole mess, taking Tommy away from his friends, torturing him into the perfect rag doll, only for his plan to fail in the end. The devil who takes the name Schlatt, the man Tommy betrayed without a second thought.

Speaking of his friends, Tubbo and Ranboo are tied in normal rope, strong enough to keep them still, but not as strong as metal cuffs. Focusing his energy, Tommy starts growing a vine that snakes up towards the binds, intending to snap them.

Unfortunately, Schlatt isn’t dumb and he saw the plant reaching, grabbing it and snapping it off the ground while letting out a hearty laugh. The five captives snapped their heads to him, a mix of fear, confusion, and anger on their faces.

“What are you laughing at, you dick? What’s so funny, huh?” Wilbur snapped, while Schlatt just continued to laugh, ignoring him.

The longer Schlatt laughed, the more uncomfortable everyone got, shifting within their restraints. Unease was settling into them, fear and apprehension growing.

“Remember how I told you all the story of a very powerful boy caught to become our weapon? How we tortured him, but he managed to escape our grasps?” Schlatt said when his laughter died down to a small fit of giggles.

Tommy froze. They weren’t supposed to know everything. They were only supposed to know what he told them. Tommy was going to be sick.

“Of course we remember, you just told us! How could we forget your story where you thoroughly described how you fucking tortured a child day by day for years!” Phil snarked, remembering how the story made all of their hearts ache and stomachs flip.

“Well, it seems that child has come back to be your knight in shining armor.” the dictator goaded as horror dawned on Tommy’s face.

This can’t be happening.

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Chapter Text

Oh, this was definitely happening.

The hostages were looking around, expecting for someone to come out of the woods in a surprise attack. Usually, they would, but Schlatt is not a force to be reckoned with, and it would be nearly impossible to take the man by surprise. Plus, Tommy was frozen, so he couldn’t get his body to move either way.

“Come on, Theseus, we know you're there!” the man goaded into the woods, grinning at the way everyone’s heads snapped to him.

“…Theseus? As in Tommy Theseus?” Ranboo asked quietly, barely being heard.

“I do believe that’s the name he goes by now, yes.” Schlatt smirked, relishing in the way they realized the child who was tortured, who was trained to be a weapon, was their own friend.

Wilbur now knows why Tubbo and Ranboo didn’t want to repeat the little information Tommy gave them. He wouldn’t either, and not just to keep the boy’s trust, he didn’t think he would be able to form the words.

Regaining movement to his body, Tommy slowly creeped into the clearing, arms held up in a placating manner. He was pale as a sheet and visibly shaking. Schlatt’s grin widened, miraculously, and the white coats stared at him in awe, even though none of his powers were on display. Almost none of them have seen the said prodigy weapon in person, and they all itched to take notes.

Some did take out their clipboards, others watching in fear of what the ticking time-bomb of a kid would do. Tommy was uncomfortable under their intense gazes, but he didn’t dare back away or glare. He couldn’t afford angering them, not with so much on the line.

“Let’s not do anything rash, ay, big men?” Tommy said in a voice of false confidence, though it was betrayed by the tremor in his tone.

“Tommy, no! Get out of here you idiot!” Wilbur screamed, trashing against his cuffs to no avail. Tommy smiled at him sadly when he realized the brunette was tearing up. They shouldn’t cry for him, he was a traitor and a liar.

Ranboo was shaking like he might fall over at any second, eyes blown wide and leaning on Tubbo, who looked shaken up, but still standing strong. Techno looked impassive, but Tommy’s known him long enough to see the fear coating his eyes as Tommy came forward.

Phil was in clear discomfort, almost tangible concern shining through his eyes towards his family. Wilbur was still struggling to get free and it physically hurt Tommy to look at his prone, scared figure, so he turned back towards Schlatt.

“How’d you find them? Was it because of me?” Tommy stammered out.

“No, it actually wasn’t!” Schlatt replied mischievously. “Wilbur had actually used his powers around me, unbeknownst that I knew what he was doing! He didn’t know who I was, yet he still trusted me like a fool. I got my men to stalk him, leading me to the rest of you. I wasn’t sure if you would show up to our rendezvous if it was just your foster family, so I kidnapped your pals too.”

Wil was shaking, he’s the one that led Schlatt back to the rest of his family, back to Tommy. He put Tubbo and Ranboo in danger, even if they weren’t magical. He had put Tommy in a position where he’s forced to face his unhealed trauma head on, all with the fear of his best friends’ lives dangling over his head.

Wilbur heard of what Schlatt did to magic users, it was hard not to when the man was flaunting it this whole time they were held captive. Would Tommy be forced to go through all that again? Would Wilbur’s family have to?

Why was Wilbur shaking when Tommy is the one facing his worst nightmares? The kid has lived through what Wilbur could never, fighting in moments of hopeless despair, only to come out on the other side. Wilbur forced himself to take deep breaths, making himself seem calm and keeping his head straight.

Tommy didn’t seem fazed, he was just as pale and shaky as he was before. He leveled his stare to Schlatt, face hard and eyes set.

“And what would I have to do in order for you to let them go?” he asked, everyone staring at him and immediately struggling at their restraints. They needed to show Tommy that he didn’t have to do this. That none of them wanted him to go back to that hell house.

Schlatt put on a face of faux contemplation before seemingly getting an idea. His face lit up as he looked down on Tommy, who shrunk under his scrutiny.

“Well,” the man drawled, “having three strong magic users would be really useful, but I suppose having a strong magic user already trained would be just as good. Saves time and resources, you know? You already know what to do and it wouldn’t be hard to beat out any remaining defiance, we know how you tick after all.”

Tommy didn’t flinch, he just looked blankly, face resigned and emotionless as he stared at Schlatt’s outstretched hand. Shaking Schlatt’s hand would completely solidify the deal, and Schlatt didn’t ever go back on his word.

The dictator was always true to his word, albeit he found and exploited loopholes in most contracts. At this point, Phil was frantically shaking his head at the boy, telling him not to accept the compromise, everyone else wearing expressions that conveyed similar ideas.

Wilbur was fully crying now, big fat tears rolling down his face as he struggled against the magic-dampeners with a final burst of energy. Techno was fighting too now, but it seemed to be just a ruse as his face told Tommy he understood the effort would reap nothing. Perhaps he did it as a distraction for Tommy if the boy wanted an escape.

Tommy glanced at them, his face acquiescent in such a way that silenced everyone’s struggles. They knew he had already decided, yet still hung onto the hope the decision wasn’t in their favor. What an odd thing to hope for.

No one spoke, partially from fear of what Tommy would do and partially because the white coats had come over to prod them. The scientists were taking notes and threatening the five whenever they moved an inch out of line.

With a final, sorrowful smile, Tommy takes Schlatt’s hand.

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Chapter Text

Tommy didn’t think this would work.

I mean, he literally just complimented Schlatt on his intelligence, yet the man took his hand with no hesitation. Tommy wasn’t actually agreeing to the deal, dick move, he knows, but desperate times call for desperate solutions.

Schlatt was always true to his word, but Tommy wasn’t. He was a traitor before and nothing has changed. His word can mean nothing or everything when it comes to his family and friends.

As soon as their hands collided, Tommy firmed his grip so Schlatt couldn’t pull back. The man looked surprised by Tommy’s strength, yet didn’t try to fight it.

“What’s this? So desperate for human contact, Theseus?” Schlatt grinned, while Tommy just had a small smile on his face.

Without answering, vines began to creep out Tommy’s sleeve and restrain Schlatt, the man almost falling in his attempt to get away. He began struggling against them, but the more effort he put, the stronger the vines became and the more they spread.

Immediately, the white coats rushed into action. Half of them trying to untangle the vines around Schlatt and half of them trying to seize Tommy.

The ones trying to free the dictator had the vines spread to them. Creeping up their arms and gagging their mouths. The vines squeezed their bodies and a few unfortunate souls had the ropes wrap around their neck, restricting their air flow and leaving them a sputtering mess until they could no longer struggle.

To the ones with the good sense to stop moving, the vines continued to wrap them like mummies, yet never got tighter. When a body was fully covered, small, pink flowers would sprout from them and leave them looking like a deranged art piece.

The ones that charged Tommy reached a different fate; roots erupting from the ground, making crevices in the earth big enough to get lost in. The gorges were large, looking like an abyss in the way you couldn’t see the bottom no matter how hard you looked down the jagged walls.

Some of the larger roots tripped the white coats, sending them into the chasms or enabling Tommy’s vines to spread to them, wringing them of life. A few more agile assailants made it past the gorges, looking at them with wide eyes as they opened further into the land.

The ravines had separated Tommy from the rest of the forest, building a moat around him that was to be filled with the fools who dare come any closer. Tommy stood in the middle of it all, facing away from his family and listening to the screams of his victims.

Nature brings forth truth and justice, and the truth does not care about your feelings.

The few stragglers that actually made it to Tommy’s plot of grass were heaving for air and absolutely drained of energy. They were trained to take notes and do experiments, not chase down rogue children strong enough to be the antichrist.

A few collapsed from exhaustion, the same vines as before trapping them in place and decorating their bodies like ancient tombs. The others attempted to grab at Tommy or any of the others, but failed miserably.

Anyone who made contact with Tommy was overcome with roses, sweet but deadly killers. The same kind that decorated Tommy’s hair, thorns poking out in a promise of death to anyone that brought harm to him, his family, or the nature he holds dear.

Tommy looked so peaceful, standing there in the midst of disarray, wearing his hoodie like it was just a regular day. This time, though, the boy wore a crown that showed the true power of a king, the flowers composing it drooping with various lethal substances. His body was the same, overrun with flowers sporting sharp thorns, irritating poisons, or with smells so saccharin they’d lure you in and be your demise.

The kid never seemed affected by any of the plants, watching the chaos unfold around him with a small smile on his face. There was a look of insanity in his eyes that even Techno never wanted to see again, but the man knew that the insanity wasn’t directed at him, and he hoped it never would be.

Around the hostages lurked wolves, circling them not as prey, but as pack. Ripping off the white coats’ limbs if they dare get too close to their kin. Tommy was a wolf and when you mess with him, you mess with the pack.

Not many white coats remained, corpses and what may as well be corpses littered the ground while the beautiful but destructive forces of nature ran rampant. Plants bloomed faster than time should allow and the earth rumbled with angry promises to the attackers.

With a flick of his wrist, Tommy, a child of Mother Nature himself, crushed the bones of any mummified white coats, killing any remaining survivors. Their blood seeped out onto the ground, coating the flowers like a gloss and showing the beauty in danger and the danger in beauty.

All that remained was one body: Schlatt. The man remained tightly bound as Tommy gazed upon it with conflicting emotions. Plants creeped under his skin, snaking through his veins yet never hurting him, blooming out of his skin to show that Tommy was the god here, reigning over his domain with an iron fist.

Tears ran down his face, but they were not crystal nor a baby blue. They were black and as thick as molasses, staining his hands and clothes and showing what nature truly was.

Nature wasn’t a toy or a decoration to your home. It was a siren of beautiful bodies that trapped its prey and dragged it under. Killing with a smile as it rivaled death and life itself. Nature was ruthless and so was Tommy.

Tommy was born from nature and he will return to it. His status showed through the impassive look on his face as he watched over his cemetery, pleased with the elegance it brought. This person was not a kid who sprouted flowers without knowing what he was doing, Tommy was a master of his craft that walked through his castle wearing a gown of blood and tears.

If Tommy were wearing a white gown, he would look almost like a runaway bride with the flowers braided in his hair and on his body, his tears reminiscent of mascara trailing down his cheeks. However, Tommy was no woman falling off her high-horse; his flowers weren’t braided in necklaces and bracelets, dangling in pure innocence and sorrow.

No, Tommy’s flowers came from within, plaguing the enemy with such pain that they would never be able to look away from its face. It’s angelic features masking the demon within, a demon who showed no remorse and pranced around with grace no swan could match.

Tommy stepped towards the last body, golden hair glinting in the sun and complimenting the sharp roses planted within his crown, showing no true king needs royal attire. Birds chirped obliviously from the tree line, like a massacre didn’t just take place, landing on the environment’s new additions and singing their praise to their king.

Reaching the man, the vines receded to show Tommy the wicked’s face, allowing the boy to lock eyes with him. The face that haunted Tommy’s dreams was right in front of him, taunting him. The vines unconsciously tightened.

Tommy saw the man every time he closed his eyes—although he’d rather forgive and forget to let go of the pain—showing him that even if he forgave his abuser, he can never forget the bastard’s face.

Tommy leaned forward until he was right by Schlatt’s ear. His breathing was labored as he spoke, voice raspy and low.

“You fucked up.”

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Chapter Text

“You–you trained me to be a weapon, manipulating me into thinking you’re the good guys.” Tommy laughed, a deranged noise strangling past his lips.

He was currently leaning over Schlatt, the man restricted by vines and flowers and seated on the grass. Tommy was covered in flowers, too, but they weren’t restricting him. The things framed him like a mutated art piece, dripping in deathly beauty. They even grew from inside his arteries, being complimented by the thick, black tears that ran down Tommy’s face and covered his clothes.

“Listen, I–when I’m around you my brain feels like I’m fucking conditioned to be your friend, but also when I have a knife I wanna just plunge it into your heart, and it’s like I don’t–you don’t make me a good person.” Tommy rambled without much thought, his smile dropping ever so slightly when he failed to get a response.

“What? Nothing to say to your good buddy ol’ pal?”

“Fine!” Schlatt bit out. “What are you going to fucking kill me like you did to my men? I bet your family thinks you're a monster, I mean, look around us! It’s a fucking crime scene.”

Tommy put on a mock frown at Schlatt’s words, an expression scarier than it should be. Somewhere deep inside his gut, Tommy’s worried that his family might think of him differently, but he doesn't regret a single thing he did. He did what he had to do in order to get everyone he cared about out alive.

“Well, that’s not very nice.” Tommy pouted, the vines tightening around Schlatt, making the man grunt.

“Tommy,” Tubbo’s voice cut in, a dangerous lilt to it hiding in the undertones, “it’s not good to play with your food.”

Ranboo sputtered and straightened up, staring at Tubbo with wide eyes. The rest of the group was similar, yet Tubbo’s eyes never left Tommy, a warm understanding melting in them.

“Oh, you guys are all fucking crazy! Just kill me already!” Schlatt yelled, breaking Tommy and Tubbo’s trance.

“Well, that wouldn’t be very fun, would it? It’s way too merciful for someone like you.” Tommy stood in faux contemplation, eerily similar to the way Schlatt did before proposing his deal.

Then, Tommy smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners into crow’s feet. The smile was so kind, so deceiving, so shrewd. Snapping his fingers, the boy called out.

“Clementine! Shroud!” the boy called out, his voice oddly sing-songy.

Soon enough, the moth and spider appeared before the group, flitting in anticipation. With a motion of his hand, Shroud climbed onto Schlatt’s back and covered him with sticky webs. Using this new adhesive, Clem picked up the two and began to fly away.

“They’ll take care of him, trust me.” Tommy smiled, watching them go. Both Tommy and Schlatt knew bugs were very good at being torture devices, it was the first way Tommy was punished in the facility, so Schlatt is just getting a taste of his own medicine.

As they fly off into the distance like a fucking weird Disney Princess, Tommy laughs at the way Clem drops the man multiple times. He turns his attention back to his friends and family, only being able to meet Tubbo’s eyes.

Silently, Tommy reached his vines out, noticing in the way everyone but Tubbo flinched, and broke off the restraints. They stand in silence, shifting uncomfortably between themselves, before Tubbo breaks out in the most shit-eating grin possible.

“So, Tommy, did you have fun?” he exclaimed, as Tommy broke out laughing from the absurdity of the question. Everyone else eyed them wearily, Ranboo more than others.

“Tubbo, he just, murdered like, several people! While smiling, smiling! What the actual hell!”

“Boo, they hurt him and they were going to hurt us. I think it was a very reasonable response. I’m sure you would do a whole lot of things if your abuser ever came back.”

Ranboo sighed, defeated, and hung his head low before making eye contact with Tommy. No words were exchanged, but Tommy saw the awe and understanding in them. Tommy breathed out a sigh of relief, Ranboo wasn’t mad, he was just concerned. He may even be proud of Tommy for defending them.

“That was fucking cool, man. We should murder some time together.” Techno said next, coming to terms with his murderous little brother already, especially since he was a murderer himself. Tommy smiled.

Wilbur and Phil were still gawking, flabbergasted. Tommy just committed mass murder, after all. Sure, Techno does too, but this is Tommy, the scrawny 16-year old who runs at the first sign of danger. Not to mention the revelation that Tommy has powers, they thought they were the only ones!

Ranboo and Tubbo don’t seem shell-shocked about the boy having powers in the slightest, so they must’ve known, while Techno is very obviously hiding his shock behind a neutral mask. What the actual fuck is happening, man?!

Scrambling towards home, Tommy fills the clearing with trees and foliage, completely covering any evidence of the bodies. He sheds the flowers attached to him and wipes away the unnatural tears. Finally, he takes off his sweatshirt—discarding the handkerchief too—and ties it around his waist, covering the stains of tears and blood, although most of the blood isn’t visible on the red. It’s why Techno wears his cape to murder.

All in all, Tommy looks normal again, any indication of being anything but human hidden, and murderous look in his eyes gone. The kid acts like nothing happened, that he didn’t show them that he’s much more than what meets the eye, a descendant of a god.

Phil, the descendant of the goddess of death, Techno, the descendant of the god of blood, and Wilbur, the descendant of the god of sound, know they’ve met their fourth. The fourth to complete their little godly family: Tommy, the descendant of the goddess of nature.

Death kills all, yet brings new life, a cycle older than time itself. Phil’s power may not seem to have anything to do with death, but he is her angel, the wings being the ones used to guide souls to the afterlife. His crows are souls longing to be back, taking solace in staying on earth as Phil’s helpers.

Blood brings war and pain, yet leads to resolution and understanding for the future. Techno’s voices help him bring forth bloodshed, to make up for Techno’s inability to die from wounds himself. He’s strong like a wild animal to make people understand what they fear, showing them the truth.

Sound condones joy and happiness, yet can bring you into a spiral of insanity no man can break from. Wilbur is a singer who manipulates his feelings into songs, yet he has to be careful of the effects of it for the human mind is fragile. He needs to strip words so raw it’s all people can see, but spin it into a web of grace to make people understand the complexity of sapient emotions.

Nature sparks divine beauty in earth’s elements, yet wreaks havoc and destruction to those deserving. Tommy has to balance fear from love, being able to be happy with something poised to kill him. He brings the illusion of life in the form of death to balance the world and make people appreciate their own morality, their own bodies, putting everything on a fragile scale oh so close to tipping.

Each has a flip side and a purpose, a dark and a light, a yin and a yang, and together, they are a family.

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Chapter Text

The walk home is awkward for the family, Tubbo and Ranboo chatting meaninglessly in the background about games or some shit. Tommy still refuses to meet anyone’s eyes, as though looking at them would break the fragile peace they have around them.

Perhaps he’s afraid that if he looks at them, he’ll realize they're gone, never even there in the first place as they were taken by Schlatt. Tommy would rather live in ignorance.

Or maybe, he thinks that if he makes eye contact he’ll see the thinly veiled horror, the one showing Tommy that he has no place in this family as a murderer. He doesn't know if he could handle the heartbreak.

When they all arrive home, Tommy practically dies on the carpeted floor, even more drained than the day before because of his excess use of power. Tubbo cackles as he sits on the couch and Ranboo pats Tommy’s head sympathetically before moving next to Tubbo.

“So,” Tubbo drags out, “what are your guys’ powers? I mean, you’ve probably already figured Tommy’s is plants because of the whole—ya know—so what’s yours.”

Ranboo looked surprised at his bluntness, babbling out an apology and whacking Tubbo on the back of the head. Phil smiled tiredly, Techno was ever so neutral, and Wilbur was grinning maniacally.

“I can control sounds, Tech has super senses and can’t die from injuries, and Phil is half-crow!” he smiled, as Phil unfurled his wings, all the children looking at him in wonder.

A lot of things made sense from that statement. The absurd amount of crows around the house must’ve been because of Phil, the reason Tommy was so scared the night he ran was because of Wilbur’s voice manipulation, and Techno’s keen hearing was because of his powers.

Tommy reaches out a tentative hand, and Phil extends his wing in encouragement. The boy gingerly grasped at the feathers, marveling at how soft they are. Gently, the boy pulls back and closes his eyes, weaving a beautiful flower crown from his bare hands and using it to embellish Phil’s wings.

The off-white chrysanthemums look gorgeous around Phil’s wings. Silently, Tommy weaves more flowers for everyone else, using the colors to complement their eyes or hair. The flowers all mean things along the lines of love, joy, and family, but that’s neither here nor there.

It’s peaceful as Phil begins to make dinner for the crew, Wilbur constantly fixing his flower crown. He was looking at it like it was the only thing that mattered in this world and he would die to protect it—which Tommy wouldn’t doubt—and, for some reason, the thought made his chest warm.

Techno was similar but different, handling his as if it was going to break at the slightest touch; you’d think a gardener would know better. It was honestly endearing how gently he handled the plants.

Tommy smiled and went to help Wil with his crown. The man had fussed over his flowers so much they were starting to break apart, the man desperately trying to fix them and whimpering when they dislodged more.

The blonde grabbed his hands and focused his powers on pinning the plants perfectly in place. It wasn’t flawless since Tommy can’t root the things into Wil’s head like he can for himself, but with the smile the man gave him, you’d think it was.

Phil lets loose all the chirps that bubble up because of his sons, perfectly content with the knowledge that, going forward, he’ll be able to use his powers to protect them. That he can curl up his sons in his wings and keep them safe in his nest.

Wilbur laughed louder than any human should, not stopping his powers from amplifying his excitement and contentment. The sound echoed off the walls and vibrated in Tommy’s bones.

Techno slathered Tommy in gold jewelry to indulge the voices who demanded it, the blonde relishing in the affection. Technosoft, the voices chanted, Brotherblade. The man can’t find it within him to be mad, they aren’t wrong after all.

Tubbo and Ranboo went home that night with their own bouquets of flowers for their families, absolutely ecstatic with their friends’ new revelations. They swore to keep everything a secret, of course, no threatening from Techno required. Together, the family settles down to watch a movie once more, this time with no panic scares.

It’s quiet, but Tommy finds he doesn’t mind, not while being surrounded by the people he loves. The movie plays and lulls Tommy to sleep. No nightmares come to haunt Tommy that night.

When Tommy wakes up, his mind instantly thinks everything was a dream. I mean, his family actually having powers and accepting him? Seems like something Tommy’s brain conjured to make him feel better about his attachment. Not to mention Schlatt being gone for good sounds like an impossible thought, the man is like a cockroach: he doesn’t fucking die.

However, as Tommy finds Phil cooking in the kitchen, wings unfurled, he thinks that maybe, maybe some of it was real. Eggs and toast are put in front of him and Tommy thanks the man. He wonders if eating eggs is offensive, Phil is a bird.

Nevertheless, everything is just, so hard to believe, especially since Tommy spent most of his life on the run. There are instincts ingrained into him that he doesn’t need to listen to anymore now that he’s not in danger.

Phil isn’t even looking at him differently for being a murderer, but that could partially be Techno’s doing, the man being a murderer himself. Soon enough, the twins join breakfast, their hair looking like a tornado hit them in their sleep.

That day they go to Tubbo’s house to hang out. Wilbur goes to fuck around with Eret and Techno goes with Niki. Ranboo comes over and the three end up in an intense Mario Kart battle—which Tubbo won by fucking pushing Tommy and stealing Ranboo’s controller, like the bitch he is.

The day was so ordinary. There were no panic attacks, intrusive thoughts, fear of the white coats, or anything really. It made him a little paranoid before Tommy decided that he was safe; and if he wasn’t, he knew he had people who would protect him.

He felt normal, finding people like him and people who accepted him. Tommy was happy, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. Everything was like a fever dream, like what Tommy used to daydream about before he lost all hope in humanity.

However, maybe, just maybe, there’s still some hope left in him for this family.

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Chapter Text

A few days have passed since what was dubbed as the incident, or when Tommy, you know, went on a murder spree. Shroud and Clementine did, in fact, bring back Schlatt’s mutilated remains.

The man had large areas of skin missing and some of his flesh was falling off the bone. There were deep eye bags beneath his eyes and his body was covered in welts, burns, and bite marks, both from bugs and animals it seemed.

Part of the body was rotted and Tubbo wanted to know what it looked like on the inside, so he did a dissection. Wilbur threw up once Tubbo extracted the man’s heart—what a pussy. Techno, on the other hand, looked delighted—what a phycopath.

Ranboo and Phil had decided to leave them home alone that day, so they didn’t get to see the maggot infested organs; their loss. They cleaned up the body before the two got home and no one suspected anything was wrong, well, apart from Wilbur’s unnaturally pale face.

The heart was kept at Tubbo’s house, pickled in a jar like a gag souvenir, and no one thought otherwise. Life went on and Tommy began to get more comfortable in being himself: buying things, going out, and using his powers at home. It was like a dream.

Before he knew it, school was approaching, and Tommy didn’t feel all the anxiety he did when he first arrived in this home. He knew that whatever happened, there would be friends and family to back him up. Also, Techno might literally murder any bullies that dare come for him, which is greatly appreciated in a strange way.

Schlatt was officially proclaimed dead on the news and his organization was shut down. None of it was explicitly explained to the public, but a few check-ins on the facility confirmed their suspicions: the wicked bitch is finally dead.

Tommy was free. He’s free and he’s never going back to being the scared shell of a rabid dog. It’s such an intangible concept to him, but he’s safe now, away from the white coats who can never harm him again, and if they try they’re going to fucking regret it.

The last days of summer are fun and flying past faster than Tommy realizes; everyone hangs out together, eating and joking all day long. Tommy can now proudly call the group of people his friends.

One night, Tommy is called to a family meeting and he isn’t even anxious! That’s another win in his book, and Tommy’s been having a lot of wins lately.

Now that the rest of the family knows where his trauma lies, he’s been set up with a therapist. Her name is Clara and although Tommy can’t tell her everything, she helps him work through his trauma in noninvasive ways.

He’s started being less anxious and more of the rambunctious kid he used to be, calming himself in the garden and playing more pranks. His paranoia has gotten better and his mind is not always on the white coats anymore, allowing Tommy to buy white clothes or act without thinking of every little detail.

At the dinner table, Tommy sits confidently, albeit a bit curious about what this meeting is all about. Phil looks all fatherly, Wilbur like he might combust with the smile he’s wearing, and Techno with a weary nervousness—but the man is always anxious, so that’s not a surprise; plus, this anxiety seems to be of the good kind.

“What’s up, big men?” Tommy says as he flops forward to lean on the table. “Why was I called here?”

“Well, Tommy,” Phil started off with a clearing of his throat, “we were think that since you’ve been here for weeks already and we’ve had quite the unusual bonding that–”

“We want to adopt you, gremlin!” Wilbur shouts in interruption, standing up and knocking his chair over behind him, eliciting a wince from Techno.

“Yes, like Wil said, we want to know if you want to be officially adopted.” Phil sighs, fond exasperation written all over his face.

Tommy was speechless, his eyes becoming glassy in a way he willed to go away. I mean, he considered these people to be his family and he hoped they did the same for him, but there’s a difference between thinking it and actually hearing it.

He always thought he was the ‘unlovable’ child of the orphanage, always getting into fights and arguing with such a burning hatred for the world. He never thought someone would see him behind those hot walls of anger, slowly putting out the flames to comfort the shaking child hidden within.

“…Tommy? It’s ok to say no. We don’t want to force you into anything.” Techno stammered after Tommy’s silence, being cut off by the bone-crushing hug the boy gave him.

Phil and Wilbur were pulled in as well, carnations blooming from their bodies, showering them in soft petals. It wasn’t threatening like the last time Tommy sprouted flowers, it was more of a comforting act, telling the family everything they needed to know.

If a few tears slipped out everyone’s eyes when they signed the official papers, no one needed to know.

Tommy had found his family, his completion. Mother Nature was smiling down on him along with the other gods above, happy for their vessels to be at home, to be loved in a way they could never provide, despite the hardest they tried. Schlatt was dead, and Mother Nature’s boy was safe in the arms of the determined.

They would protect him like she could never, lighting up the paths of his future and helping him wear down the road to happiness. There wasn’t a path for him before and he didn’t know what to do, but they’ll show him that he needs to make his own path in uncharted territory.

Not on his own, never on his own. They would trek beside him, helping him carry the boulder of burden, smiling and laughing until the weight weathers away.

There will be bumps in the track, no doubt, but there will always be someone to help Tommy up, no matter how much he slows down. They will be patient and understanding to his frustration, not allowing him to be consumed by flames of hatred.

They will heal wounds into scars, never completely fading, but merely becoming paintings of resilience. You may see them as shameful and will for them to scrub away, opening them again in the process, but why should you scrub away the marks that show your growth? They are like Tommy’s flowers in a more metaphorical sense, and he would never scrub those away.

However, scars aren’t pretty like flowers, no one said they were, but they are yours. They show your mortality and experiences, building you up in a painful, but sturdy, way.

Don’t our bodies show our resilience and determination to become who we want to be, regardless of how many jagged edges life can snag on? Beauty is always in the eye of the beholder, and to some, scars are the prettiest flowers to plague the body.

Trust will be built and torn, but nicks in the tree show wisdom. The axe may forget, but the tree remembers. The axe forgets the pain it inflicts, but the tree is forced to carry the burden of its scars. Take these in pride rather than dishonor, for these were life changing to you while to the axe it was merely another day.

Recovery isn’t linear, it never was, but perhaps with family to patch up what was broken again and again, building it into the finest piece of art, Tommy will come out the other end with a smile.

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