Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy is clicking his pen. 

Tommy is clicking his pen and it’s loud and annoying and Tubbo can’t fucking read while he’s doing that. 

“Can you not?” Tubbo asks. 

“I’m trying to focus! This helps Tubbo! You want me to not focus?” Tommy whines. He doesn’t look up from his own homework. Math probably, Tubbo can’t really read it though, the ink on paper blurring.

“I want to focus and you are killing me Tom. You are literally killing me,” Tubbo tells him. The words on the paper swim so much, and Tubbo’s eyes are so tired, it’s hard to even think about reading. 

“Rude. You know I’ve literally been killed right? That’s such a mean thing to say to me. Be nicer to me Tubbo, I deserve to be treated nicely.” Tommy demands. 

Tubbo pauses.

“What the fuck does that mean?” he asks.

Tommy shrugs and clicks his pen faster.

“You know, I got murdered? It was like a whole ass year ago Tubbso, keep up,” he says this casually, like he’s not fucking over Tubbo’s whole life with this information.

“No, no, you didn’t get murdered , you were- you-” Tubbo is tired, his brain isn’t connecting things like it should, he’s having to work to pull any kind of memory out.

“You were kidnapped,” he says, he’s certain of it, even if he can’t quite remember why.

“Pffft yeah, sure, like a whole fucking year ago, so I’m probably like, turbo dead by now,” Tommy points out. He’s still clicking that fucking pen.

“You’re not dead, shut up, you’re not fucking-” 

Tommy huffs and finally turning to look at Tubbo.

Blood runs down the side of his face, so much that Tubbo can’t figure out how he didn’t notice it. To be fair the more striking thing is probably how his skull is caved in.

Tubbo jerks away from him, fingers scrambling over the sheets, breath shuttering. 

He’s in bed.

He’s in bed in his own room, his pc hums, monitor asleep but not off, comforter strewn half on the bed and half on the floor. Tommy isn’t here, because Tommy was kidnapped over a year ago.

The heater shuts off, and the fan that always clicks quiets with it. 

Tubbo sighs and grabs his phone, which is sitting on the bed next to him as always. It’s dying, he fell asleep without plugging it in last night, probably around four a.m. It’s eight now. 

Four hours of sleep isn’t bad for Tubbo these days. Recurring nightmares. Yay. 

Tubbo’s therapist says it’s normal, says there’s nothing wrong with him, says that it should get better as he processes his trauma.

Tubbo thinks that’s bullshit.

He checks his email, his Reddit, his Facebook, his Twitter. He didn’t used to be big on social media, but he has work to do finding his friend.

Predictably no one has reached out to him in the early hours of Christmas day.

He should keep working, he should keep talking to the true crime influencers he’s been messaging. He managed to get Tommy’s story onto a mid-level YouTuber’s channel, he might be able to get more coverage, even if he can’t get anyone to take his version of the story covered.

The serial kidnapping of several upper-class individuals, a foster kid, and a former foster parent is a cool story, but trying to convince people of it without much concrete evidence isn’t exactly easy.

His dad is probably not gonna be happy if he doesn't at least come down and eat breakfast and open presents.

Tubbo rolls out of bed and peels off his shirt. He fell asleep in his day clothes last night, but if he wears the same shirt twice in a row his dad will be worried. He picks up a sweater off the floor and gives it a sniff. It’s not bad so he throws it on. 

His dad is already at the stove working on breakfast downstairs. Tubbo usually just eats dry cereal by the fistful out of the box, but his dad likes to make something special for the holidays. 

Tubbo still starts his morning like he always does, popping a Keurig pod for blonde roast coffee in the coffee machine and listening to the hum then sputter as it spits out his coffee. He used to drink dark roast, but blonde has more caffeine. 

“Hey Tubbo,” his dad says, he smiles, but it’s a strained forced smile, just like always, “you get any sleep last night?” 

Tubbo knows he’s looking at the bags under his eyes. Maybe he should start wearing sunglasses all the time like his dad, then he wouldn’t notice the bags.

But then he would probably worry Tubbo is getting migraines or something.

“I slept, yeah,” Tubbo tells him.

“That’s good, when did you get to bed?” he asks casually as he flips a pancake.

“Uh- te- ten?” Tubbo is awful at lying with open-ended questions, his heart always does a fast fluttery thing and his tongue ties up. 

“You know, we could try melatonin again, it worked really well a few years back,” his father offers instead of calling him on the lie.

“I’m good,” Tubbo tells him. He sips his coffee. Blonde coffee is so bland.

“You sure? Just thinking you don’t seem to be resting well and-”

Tubbo’s phone rings, Ranboo’s ringtone. Tubbo reminds himself to thank em later for giving him an out on this conversation. 

“It’s Ranboo, sorry,” Tubbo brushes his dad off and answers his phone.

“Hey, whatsup,” Tubbo says into the phone, leaving the kitchen to sit at the table, just to get some distance from his dad.

“Hey, uh- hey, did you get a package this morning?” Ranboo asks.

Tubbo peers through the doorway to the living room where gifts are organized under the tree, wrapping paper and ribbons shining. 

“Yeah? It’s Christmas?” Tubbo points out.

“No, I mean like-” Ranboo stumbles over er words slightly, struggling to explain, nothing unusual for em “ok so my mom got a day pass today so she’s visiting,”

“That’s nice,” Tubbo interrupts. 

“Right yeah, but she got here and she found this package on the front porch and I was wondering if you uh- if you got one too and what you think? My grandma thinks that we should call the police but I um, I wanted to call you first and um…”

Tubbo’s brain automatically starts flipping through all of the horrific things that have been sent to people in the mail, ransom notes, body parts, bombs.

“Are you ok?” Tubbo asks. His chair squeals as he stands. His dad gives him an odd look as he passes through the kitchen to open the front door. It’s hardwood, with one of those half circle windows on the top, Tubbo has never been tall enough to see through that though, so checking for a package requires opening the door.

“Yeah, I’m- we’re all safe here but- I don’t really know what to do with- I think that you should check it out if you got one, it’s um, about Tommy.”

Tubbo’s heart stops, he remembers Tommy’s face in his dream. 

There’s a package on the front porch, neatly set in the middle of the welcome mat, messily wrapped red and white paper around a book-sized lump.

“If this is a fucking foot or something you have got to let me know before I touch it,” Tubbo says. 

“A- what? No it’s- I think it’s a good thing? I just- I don’t really know what to do with it,” Ranboo says.

“What’s that?” Tubbo’s father asks, looking over his shoulder. 

“I dunno,” Tubbo grabs his dad’s gloves out of the coat he keeps on the coat rack. If this has anything to do with Tommy he doesn’t want to mess up the fingerprints. 

The lump squishes under his gloved fingers. Tubbo can’t imagine what might be in it. 

“Is that from Ranboo? I thought you were going to see em tomorrow,” his dad continues.

Tubbo ignores him, he puts the package on the dining room table and puts Ranboo on speaker so he can use both hands to unwrap it. His dad stands behind him, confused. 

“There’s no like, weird white powder in yours, is there?” Tubbo asks before he starts unwrapping.

“No? It’s just um, just a present and a letter? I think,” Ranboo replies.

“A present?” Tubbo isn’t actually waiting for Ranboo’s response, he starts clumsily pulling apart the wrapping paper. 

“Yeah, um, I got a sweater vest? Which is- it’s weird right? That’s not really the kind of thing that Tommy would get me, you know? I mean, he did like to make fun of me for wearing them but…” 

Ranboo’s voice kind of dissolves into static. There is a sweater in the package, it’s one of those kinds with all the stripes and zigzags and diamonds that Tubbo likes, but more importantly, there’s a folded piece of paper on top of it. Tommy’s distinctly shit handwriting spelling out his name.

Tubbo’s father is speaking, Ranboo is saying something on the phone, Tubbo isn’t listening.

He picks up the paper and unfolds it, inside there’s more of Tommy’s handwriting.

It’s as difficult to read as ever, maybe more so with how tired Tubbo’s eyes are and how they keep blurring, but Tubbo manages, he would do anything to manage to read this.

Hey Tubbo,

First of all merry Christmas I know I didn’t get you anything last year but that is not my fault!!! Last year was really fucking crazy for me and I wasn’t able to send anything but I’m making up for that now. I made you this sweater with my own hands so its probably like the best sweater your ever gonna own! Don’t worry about sending anything back I’m very selfless and knowing that you have a cool sweater now makes the work worth it.

Anyways I’m mostly writing this to let you know that I’m ok. I’m not coming back but I’m doing just fine where I am. I miss you, thanks for being such an awesome friend for so long.

From

Wife Haver

The Biggest Coolest Guy You Will Ever Know

Tommy

A hand grips Tubbo’s shoulder, knocking him out of his stupor, he can hear his dad talking on the phone, his own phone sits on the table, the call ended.

“Yes we already opened it- well we didn’t know- yes, yes- no- I think the door camera would have caught them…” 

Oh, he’s talking to the police.

The police are going to come to the house, again, they’re going to interview Tubbo, again, they’re going to assure them that it looks like Tommy’s foster family left and took him with them of their own accord, again, they’re going to say they’re doing everything they can and they take kidnappings very seriously, again.

They’re going to take the letter and sweater, probably. 

It doesn’t really matter though, to Tubbo the most important thing is that he just got confirmation of something he knew was true. 

Tommy is alive

Chapter Text

  ▲       r/TrueCrimeDiscussion - Posted by u/underscore 17 hours ago

  -3     Serial kidnapping investigation update

   ▽    

 another missing person, Adam Peerson, disappeared with the same hallmarks of the other victims. Guy just stopped showing up to stuff, police did a wellness check and found a spotless house, missing clothes and personal docs, and have again ruled it as Mx. Peerson leaving of their own free will. Lines up with the timeline well, it’s still fucking suspicious to me that the kidnappings have gotten closer together in the last couple years, if the kidnapper is keeping at least one victim alive then why excelerate the timeline? Isn’t that risky? Is he getting something from kidnapping new victims that he’s not getting from the old victims?

Anyways, adding this to the timeline

In other news the sweater allegedly sent by the living victim has been identified, or at least the pattern used to make it has, it’s definitely not store bought and seems like it comes from the book “Fair Isle Sweater bible” by Elizabeth Prime, unfortunately this is a pretty popular book that’s been in print since the late 70s, so it’s probably not gonna be much help. Still working to ID the sweater vest pattern

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u/outofthisworld ⋅ 14 hours ago

I don't understand how you haven't been banned from this subreddit yet. This is for the discussion of actual true crime

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u/IKnowWhatImDoing ⋅ 2 hours ago

So why do you think that this is a kidnapper and not the guy leaving on their own? If they literally packed then why would this be a kidnapping

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u/Underscore ⋅ 1 hour ago

There’s a long history of people going missing around the same times of year every year, almost all people higher up in business, usually with some kind of scandal right behind them, looks like a vigilante to me

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u/IKnowWhatImDoing ⋅ 1 hour ago

Bruh, not exactly compelling evidence here

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u/Underscore ⋅ 1 hour ago

I have more information on my website and we can talk more there www.thomasinnitproject.com/timeline-evidence  

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The Thomas Innit Project

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IKnowWhatImDoing

This is pretty bad. Look kid, I can see you’re trying to find your friend but this is a conspiracy, not a real theory, maybe you should just leave this to the cops

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“I got another one,” Tubbo tells Ranboo before he even sits at eir desk.

Ranboo jerks, dropping eir pen. It rolls off the desk and bounces on the thin, grimy classroom carpet

“I- wh-” Ranboo looks up at Tubbo, ey must see something in Tubbo’s eyes because ey deflate a bit.

“Oh, the website thing again,” ey say, drooping and picking eir pen back up. 

“Hey, hey, I know that I’ve brought you false leads before, but this time I vetted them thoroughly, I have everything here, I just need you to double check my work,” Tubbo tells em.

“And drive you to your b’n’e,” Ranboo mutters. 

Tubbo pretends that he doesn’t hear it. 

Tubbo knows Ranboo is sick of this, eir tired and hurting and just wants things to be better already. Tubbo knows that he’s a bad person, he knows that he shouldn’t be dragging Ranboo into this anymore, giving em false hope. He also knows that he shouldn’t be dragging Ranboo into the crimes that he gets into for the sake of the case. He needs Ranboo though, he can’t drive.

He doesn’t feel bad about this. He doesn’t feel much guilt at all. That’s how he knows he’s a bad person. It’s fine though, he’s channeling all that bad person energy into finding Tommy instead of like, murder. 

“I really think this one is the one though, I promise,” Tubbo tells em. It’s perfectly likely that this one isn’t the one, but whatever it takes.

“Tubbo you’re not-” the bell rings, but that’s fine, this is prep, it’s not a real class or anything.

“Do you actually- I’m trying to figure out how likely it is that the criminal is going to actually try to reach out through your site,” Ranboo is watching eir words, trying not to offend Tubbo probably.

“Well he’s a vigilante criminal, so he’s pretty likely to try to inject himself into any investigation, and this is an investigation, so once he finds it he’ll take the bait,” Tubbo explains. 

“I don’t-” Ranboo’s eyes flick up to the front of the classroom, Tubbo can practically feel the gaze of the teacher on the back of his neck. Ugh, yeah, last thing Tubbo needs is another detention. 

“I’ll show you at lunch,” he assures Ranboo before slipping into his own seat. He can see Ranboo slouch back down over eir work. 

Whatever. Tubbo pulls out his laptop, prepping the case work for Ranboo to look at at lunch.

“Toby,” Tubbo cringes as the teacher approaches and closes his internet tabs, “Toby, please keep in mind that your laptop and prep period are privileges, please use this time for appropriate class work.”

She smiles in a way that’s probably supposed to be soft, but Tubbo can see the strain behind it. Whatever, they have this conversation every day basically. 

“That’s what I’m doing,” Tubbo says, gesturing to his screen where a dumb research paper is displayed. It’s bad, Tubbo knows that it’s bad, he’s not good at papers, and it’s not like he’s been putting in the time to do well on them recently.

Recently.

That’s kind of a stretch for two years.

“Make sure to keep it that way, and please don’t bother the other students,” she says. 

Ranboo is the only other student in the room. 

Tubbo pretends to proofread his essay while the teacher hovers over Ranboo and helps em organize eir work. Tubbo has a hard time caring about school these days, he used to be pretty good in school, he had wanted to go into criminology, which requires really good scores. Now he's just skating along at whatever he needs to keep his dad from getting too worried about him.

Ranboo keeps eir head down even after their teacher leaves em alone, so Tubbo resigns himself to waiting until lunch to show em his evidence. 

Classes suck, by the way. Classes always suck, Tubbo doesn’t pay much attention to the lessons, he uses his school laptop to look at more of his suspect’s posts. They’re bland, if Tubbo is being honest, mostly questions about homesteading and foraging, or picking fights in comment sections about the same topics. He’s the kind of person who corrects the grammar and spelling of people he’s arguing with online, aka one of Tubbo’s least favorite kinds of people. 

They have a mutual friend? Why would they-

Ranboo’s grandmother.

Ok. Well then. Tubbo adds the fact that he’s stalking people close to one of the victims to his mental tally of evidence, but decides to not add it to the notes he’ll show Ranboo.

A paper drops onto Tubbo’s keyboard. 

He blinks down at the red marker on the top right corner, the large 2/5 staring up at him from last week’s quiz. The shadow of Eret, his math teacher, standing over him does nothing to block it out. Tubbo looks up at them slowly.

Eret is usually a pretty cool teacher, or at least they were a couple years ago when Tubbo had them for algebra, course, back then Tubbo was really trying in class. But they still let all the students call them by their first name and she’s pretty good with actually knowing students’ accommodations, maybe because they need sunglasses even in low lights, kind of like Tubbo’s dad.

“This is math, Tubbo, could you please put the laptop away? It’s not really appropriate for this class” he says.

“You’re not actually allowed to tell me what I do and don’t need my accommodations for,” Tubbo tells her, “it’s illegal for you to try.” 

They both know this, they also both know that Tubbo doesn’t actually use his laptop in math, math programs are more of a pain in the ass than they’re worth for Tubbo’s dyslexia. They both know that’s not what this is about.

“Being on Facebook isn’t an accommodation.” 

Tubbo closes his internet tabs.

“Please think about what you’re prioritizing,” Eret tells him before returning to the front of the class to lecture. Tubbo can feel the eyes of the other students on him. 

He reopens his internet tabs.

He does at least close Facebook. 

Tubbo keeps en eye on the time. The tiny numbers in the corner of his screen ticking up slowly, far too slowly. 

11:14, a minute before class ends and Tubbo can go to lunch he closes his laptop and slips it into his backpack, his leg bounces as he eagerly awaits the bell. 

“Alright, remember, exam Friday, that way you can all start the break without having to stress about math, I know that’s the last thing any of you want,” Eret is saying. He’s drifting away from the whiteboard, closer to Tubbo’s desk. Tubbo can guess what they’re trying to do. The other students start to pack up.

His hand lands on Tubbo’s desk as the bell rings, Tubbo springs to his feet, trying to act like he simply didn’t notice, but Eret’s hand lands on his shoulder before he can get out.

“Stay and talk to me for a minute Tubbo,” she says. The rest of the students drain from the room.

“Sorry bossman, I don’t want to miss lunch so…” Tubbo shrugs, trying to casually brush Eret off, she’s not the kind of person who’s easily dissuaded though. 

“This won’t take too long, I just wanted to talk about your plans,” Eret’s voice is too kind, too gentle, Tubbo’s stomach lurches at that. He doesn’t really mind being pitied, but he’d really like it if people would mind their own business with it. 

“I know this might be strange to hear from a teacher, but I do understand that school isn’t your top priority right now. I know this is a… rough time of year for you,” this time of year, October, the anniversary of Tommy going missing. No one wants to say it out loud, Tubbo thinks that’s stupid and insincere. 

“I’m just wondering if you’re doing any um, extended planning? You know, just- thinking about what you’re going to do after school, maybe talking to someone?” 

Same thing as always, “are you thinking about college?” “are you talking to a therapist?” “you really shouldn’t be throwing your future away right now Tubbo”. It’s fine, Tubbo knows what he’s doing, even if other people don’t get it.

“I’ve got it,” Tubbo tells him. Eret frowns and Tubbo can tell they don’t believe it.  It doesn’t matter, Tubbo knows what he’s doing. He doesn’t need anyone else to believe it. 

Except Ranboo. Tubbo needs Ranboo to drive him places.

Speaking of…

“If you want to talk to anyone about plans, moving forward- I’m not gonna tell you you need to focus and get your grades up and go to college, I really do want to help, see if we can find something that works for you,” Eret is saying.

“Can I go to lunch now?” Tubbo asks.

Eret gives him a long look before taking a deep breath and nodding.

“Just think about it,” Eret says. 

“Ok,” Tubbo will not be thinking about it, Tubbo already has an idea for what he’s gonna be doing at least until he finds Tommy, and then he can handle everything else when that’s done.

Eret gestures for him to go and Tubbo isn’t gonna need to be told twice. He speedwalks his way down to the lunchroom, he would run but he’s pretty sure the hall monitors look out for him specifically to stop when he runs to lunch.

Ranboo still isn’t at their usual table when Tubbo gets there. Weird cause eir grandma packs eir lunch so ey don’t have to wait in the line for hot lunches, but Tubbo isn’t gonna complain, it gives him more time to set up his presentation. 

“Did you make another powerpoint?” Ranboo asks as ey approach the table, lunch tray in hand.

“I got a lot of evidence to go over,” Tubbo tells em, gesturing to the laptop screen set to be pointing to Ranboo’s usual seat and displaying the start of the powerpoint. 

Ranboo sighs and sits. Ey slide the tray of greasy cafeteria pizza and tatertots over to Tubbo and pull eir lunchbox out of eir backpack. 

“Thanks bossman,” Tubbo says, shoving a couple of tots in his mouth. He usually just doesn’t eat when he has information to present about Tommy’s case.

“No problem,” Ranboo mutters as ey pick at eir roasted cauliflower. Tubbo thinks eir lunches are super lame, he’s glad his dad doesn’t try to do that.

“Ok. so,” Tubbo straightens up his spine and starts his presentation, “two days ago, at two fourteen PM, I got his comment on one of my Reddit posts,” 

Click

Tubbo watches Ranboo’s eyes flick over the text, waits until ey’re done reading but doesn’t give em time to comment, he knows this will all take a lot longer if he lets Ranboo comment or argue.

“So I point him towards my website, obviously, as I always do,” click “and he gives me his email and leaves this comment, but the comment isn’t the important part the important part is this!”

Click

“His IP?” Ranboo asks, sounding kind of disappointed, Tubbo can’t blame em, they’ve done this before, many times, and gotten nothing so far. Tubbo knows this time though.

“Yeah, I track the IPs of everyone who comes to the site, as you know, but the thing about this IP address is the first time I got a hit from it is at one thirty two PM, almost forty five minutes before this user found my Reddit post, and he used the link to my Reddit page on the contact page, meaning he found me through this website and then used it to find me on Reddit, why?”

“Because he didn’t want to put his email into your private website?” Ranboo offers. Tubbo rolls his eyes.

“Ok but he did! After I told him about the website, and he pretended that he didn’t know the website existed. He was playing dumb, why?”

Tubbo pauses for Ranboo to make a guess. Ranboo has eir mouth full with rice noodles though, so ey don’t. 

“He knows that you really have to dig to find this website, right? It’s an awful website mate, you have to be specifically looking for information on Tommy to find it, meaning he was searching for information on Tommy’s case, he was searching really hard,” Tubbo explains.

“Did you get a new true crime podcaster to cover it?” Ranboo asks. 

“No, no, this is just out of the blue, like someone is digging for information on Tommy, but he doesn’t want people to know, that sus mate,” Tubbo explains, Ranboo curls in on emself just a bit more than usual. 

“Ok, so like, ok, because this guy is being sus I move onto the next part in the plan, I take the email and the Reddit account and I go phishing.” 

Click 

“Tubbo,” Ranboo starts

“I know it’s not super legal but whatever, it’s worth it,” Tubbo cuts em off, “so this guy, you’re gonna realize, this guy is pretty lax on his online security. The password for his Reddit is the same as basically all his other accounts, cause like, I dunno, he’s lazy-”

“All my passwords are the same, sometimes I add a number or like, exclamation point to make it work with site rules, but uh, yeah,” Ranboo offers.

“Don’t do that,” Tubbo tells em.

“I have a bad memory!”

“Get a password bank.”

“Well, uh, then people just need that password to get all my passwords!” 

“Make that password totally unique.” 

“Are all your passwords unique?” 

“ Anyways , I got into his email and combed through that, found all his social media, his bank statements, credit reports, all that junk, and mate, there is so much here,” Tubbo explains.

Click

“So here’s our guy,” Tubbo says

“This slide is still about IP addresses,” Ranboo points out. 

Fuck, see, this is the problem with trying to give presentations to Ranboo. Tubbo turns the computer and yeah, he’s been forgetting to click as he goes, it’s still on the IP address timeline, he clicks the mouse past the IP stuff, past the phishing, past the email stuff, finally onto the basics of their suspect.

“Ok, this is Technoblade Craft,” Tubbo says, turning the laptop back so Ranboo can see it.

“Oh, he’s trans” Ranboo immediately responds.

“What? No, well, I don’t think so-” he didn’t mention it anywhere on his profiles and he’s been using the same pronouns and stuff since he was a kid, “why do you think he’s trans?”

“Tubbo, look at him. Also his name is Technoblade.”

Tubbo turns the laptop again, looking at one of the few pictures of Technoblade that he was able to find online, this one posted by his brother. He’s a big guy, buff, with some stubble over his strong jaw and long pink hair falling over his shoulder, covering some of the design dumb farm themed cardigan he’s wearing. He’s holding a calf, a highlander if Tubbo’s reverse image search is right.

“I don’t get it,” Tubbo tells em honestly.

“He’s- Tubbo, his name is Technoblade, no parent picks that name for their kid, that’s a nonbinary name,” Ranboo points out.

“Well that’s been his name since he was adopted when he was like, eight, so I think his parents just named him that,” Tubbo counters.

“You tracked him back to when he was eight? ” 

“I tried to track him earlier than that but closed adoptions, you know?’

“Oh my- Tubbo! You can’t- that’s- you know what? I should expect this by now. You and your- this is stalking you know?” Ranboo stops to rub the bridge of eir nose. 

Honestly Tubbo thinks ey really should expect this kind of stuff by now, it’s not like Tubbo doesn’t usually do this kind of stuff. He needs to know if his suspects have childhood trauma to consider how likely it is that they would have grown up to be a serial killer. 

“Anyways, Technoblade, like I said, he got adopted when he was eight with his twin brother Wilbur, so childhood trauma is definitely there, but more important, as we both know, the kidnappings started in twenty thirteen, right?” 

“Mhm, you should eat, we don’t have a lot of lunch left,” Ranboo points out. Tubbo looks up at the school’s clock, the red digital numbers glare down at him. Eleven forty. Shit, five more minutes, and he has so much more to get through.

“Ok, ok,” abandon the powerpoint, speed though this, “ok two years before the kidnapping started the Craft family won a wrongful death suit because the mom, Kristin, she crashed into the end of one of those guard rail things on the side of the road, but she should have survived, but there was this guy, politician, Jay Schlatt, he was embezzling money from the city by hiring subpar contractors, but shitty contractors make shitty guardrails, so she dies-”

“That’s actually awful, wow, that’s-” Ranboo interrupts.

“I don’t have much time, lemme keep going. Ok, so they win the wrongful death suit but the criminal cases for all the other crimes this guy did, they’re still going, but he’s got bail right, ok? And then boom, guy goes missing! And not only- not only did he go missing but he goes missing with his personal documents, cash, and- um- like personal belongings you know? Phone charger and some clothes and stuff.” 

Ranboo nods with understanding.

“Just like all the other victims,” ey say.

“Exactly! So this- this guy is the first victim! And we didn’t put it together cause there was a big gap before he struck again, but also because it was in L’Manburg !” Tubbo waits for Ranboo to put the pieces together, but ey just look more confused.

“He’s in L’Manburg? Why would he come all the way out to Essempi to do his later crimes then?” ey ask. Tubbo’s smile falls.

“He’s a really crafty criminal, you know? This is just another way to cover his tracks, just like stealing their IDs and passports to make it look like they left on their own, but that’s not the important part, the important thing is- it’s- no one has seen Tommy at all right? It’s like he disappeared, but if he’s in a different country then no one around would even know that he’s a missing kid!” Tubbo catches a glimpse of another student giving him a shitty look out of the corner of his eye. He’s probably shouting, he sometimes can’t tell when he’s shouting. He gives the student a dirty look back and she looks away.

“I thought we were just assuming Tommy was getting left in a basement,” Ranboo asks. 

“Well, yeah, that’s what I assumed before, but you know, this would also work, and also- also we have bank statements right? He's spending more on groceries, and he keeps buying textbooks for like- for high school kids,”

“You think he’s homeschooling his kidnapping victim?” Ranboo asks. 

“He’s- ok, that’s the thing, he’s like, the first guy who we’ve looked at who has a reason to keep Tommy and take care of him, you know?” Tubbo asks.

“I really- I don’t? He just kind of sounds like all the other people we’ve tried with,”

“He’s a foster kid , Tommy was a foster kid, Tommy would- the other victims, they’re Schlatt, Tommy is Techno, ” Tubbo explains.

Ranboo looks at him like he’s grown a second head. 

The bell rings, Tubbo pauses to shove as much of his slice of pizza in his mouth as he can. It’s cold.

“Ok,” Ranboo finally sighs, clicking eir lunchbox closed and picking up eir backpack, “so we can call for a welfare check on this guy?” 

Tubbo can tell eir not really invested, ey don’t really believe it. He shoves his laptop into his bag and starts following Ranboo to eir next class. 

“No, listen this is the guy, this is the guy and he’s way too smart for the cops to catch him, if we sent the cops and they don’t find Tommy right away then he could get spooked and decide keeping Tommy isn’t worth it. It’s gotta be- someone has to show up who’s- who’s not bound by law, you know?” 

“Tubbo, you said this guy is in L’Manburg, that’s not like- somewhere we can get while we pretend to be at the mall,” Ranboo points out.

“I’ve got a plan,” Tubbo tells em as they approach Ranboo’s next class. Ranboo cringes at that.

“Just- I don’t want to get arrested, we’re lucky that we got off with a warning last time,” Ranboo points out.

“We’re not gonna get arrested,” Tubbo assures em, “trust me, we’re gonna get Tommy and get out, no problems, then we can bust this guy for- whatever else he’s done.”

--

“Hey dad,” Tubbo says, poking his head into his father’s home office. 

Tubbo’s dad looks away from his computer and smiles. It’s not a real smile, it’s more one of those way too careful and soft smiles, the “I’m being nice because I’m worried about you” smile. It’s strained at the edges. Tubbo really gets that smile a lot.

“Hey Tubbo!” he says, “glad you’re dropping in, I uh, got an email from your math teacher, do you want to… talk about that?”

He kind of trails off in the question, like he’s waiting for consequences from just asking. 

“Not really,” Tubbo tells him, rocking back on his heels, “I wanted to ask about fall break.” 

He watches the way his dad’s head cocks at that. 

“You want to do something for your birthday?” he asks. Tubbo can see the way his brow furrows, and the way his smile gets a little less tight. Tubbo hasn’t done anything for his birthday since Tommy went missing, for obvious reasons. His dad probably sees this request as improvement or something, which is good, it’s kind of what Tubbo is counting on.

“Yeah um, so I’m gonna be eighteen, and Ranboo is eighteen you know, both adults and all, so I was thinking we could do a vacation on our own?”  Tubbo watches his dad closely, waiting for a response. 

“Oh,” he says, brows arching, “what are you thinking of?” 

“Well Ranboo’s grandparents have a lake house. We were thinking about going there,” Tubbo tells him.

His dad nods, looking thoughtful, maybe a little confused. 

“How far of a drive is that? Isn’t Ranboo kind of a nervous driver? Do ey want to do that?” Tubbo kind of wishes his dad was less involved in his life, things would be a lot easier if he didn’t have to lie like this. 

“Ranboo’s done the drive before, eir fine with it,” Tubbo tells him. Tubbo has no clue if Ranboo has driven to the lake house. It doesn’t really matter though, that’s not where they’re going. 

“Are you sure? Why do you guys want to get so far out of town? I mean, I’m really happy you have plans but…” Tubbo’s dad trails off. Tubbo was kind of hoping he would just be happy that Tubbo’s trying to do things, that’s how he usually is. Maybe that’s a big ask when it comes to a whole out of town trip, especially since his dad still isn’t totally over Tubbo being brought home by the police after his last lead. 

Time for Tubbo to pull out the big guns then.

“I just don’t- I don’t want to be in town right now, you know? I just- this time of year and um, it’s all- you know?” Tubbo tries to make his face do something appropriately sad. He’s not good with facial expressions. 

“Tubbo, I don’t know if that’s the best idea.” 

Fuck. This is Tubbo’s only plan for getting out from under his dad watch for long enough to find Tommy and if he can’t do this then he can’t save Tommy and if- 

Tubbo’s lungs feel like they’re full of syrup, and his heart is doing a weird fluttery thing while his stomach flips. 

“Oh hey- hey Tubbo, it’s ok, it’s- you know what, actually thinking about it you know, you uh, might be right, maybe it would be better if you did get some time out of town, and I think, I know you and Ranboo could use some time to uh- do you want me to get your emergency meds?” 

Good, good, Tubbo can- he can help Tommy, he can do this he just- he’s still dealing with his lungs and heart being weird and his stomach rolling his hands are cold and his face is hot. He knows what’s coming. 

“Ok, cool, thanks,” Tubbo manages to get out. He turns and climbs the stairs stiffly, his mouth filling with saliva before he can get the door at the top of them open. 

He’s lucky to throw up into the toilet instead of on the floor. 

It would be fine either way, he and his dad have both gotten pretty good at cleaning up puke. 

“Tubbo? You alright?” his dad calls up the stairs. Tubbo sniffles and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, cringing at the taste of bile in his mouth. 

“I’m ok,” he calls back down. His heart is still doing the fluttering thing and he’s probably going to have a headache later, but he usually feels better after throwing up. At least the weird heart and lung thing usually goes down.

“You want me to grab your meds?” his dad calls.

“Nah,” Tubbo says, stepping out of the bathroom and looking down the stairs, “they won’t help.” 

He sniffles again, his lungs still feel bad and his hands are kind of shaky. It’s not bad though, could totally be worse, sometimes Tubbo is left puking for a while when he thinks too much about the possibility that they’ll never find Tommy. 

“You haven’t tried them, they might,” his dad points out, he gestures towards the kitchen where the pill bottle is sitting on the island, still in its paper pharmacy bag.

“They’re for panic attacks dad, I’m not panicking, I just get sick sometimes,” Tubbo says with a shrug. He does. He used to think it was from drinking too much redbull and staying up too late studying for tests, but it's been happening pretty randomly for a couple years now. 

His dad’s face screws up in that way that Tubbo has come to realize is him not believing Tubbo. 

“Ok, well, I just think you should consider trying them out at some point, can’t hurt.”

“Ok dad,” Tubbo says. 

His dad looks up at him, then down at the stairs, then back up. 

“Ok well uh, why don’t you take a break and then we can talk more about your trip plans,” his dad offers with a smile. 

“Yeah, cool,” Tubbo tells him with a thumbs up, his voice is weirdly horse.

“Cool,” his dad agrees, also sounding a bit horse. 

Tubbo slips into his room, his carpet sinking under his feet. He sits at his desk and powers on his PC, pulling out his phone while it boots. 

Tubbo: you ask your grandparents if we can use the lakehouse?

Ranboo: not yet

Ranboo: are you sure this is a good idea?

Tubbo: course

Tubbo: we drive down grab tommy come back then well be heros and they wont be able to punish us

Ranboo: I do think they can still punish us

Ranboo: but that’s not really the problem, like, if we find Tommy that doesn’t matter, but like are you sure that commiting a breaking and entering in a foreign country is a good idea?

Tubbo: it’s the best plan yeah

Ranboo : what if my grandparents don’t want to let us? They aren’t really big fans of you 

Tubbo : then don’t tell them I’m gonna be there

Ranboo: “hello, I, your ward with memory issues, would like to drive up to the lakehouse all alone and stay there all alone just for fun”

Ranboo: that will go great

Tubbo: ok tell them your going with me then

Tubbo: or tell them your just gonna stay the night at my house for a while

Tubbo: long as your grandparents don’t talk to my dad they wont even notice

Tubbo waits for a moment for Ranboo to text back but ey don’t, so Tubbo unlocks his computer. He clicks through his email, his notifications, all that. There isn’t much going on in that, there never is. 

Tubbo kind of hates the days before he has the time to investigate his suspects in person. He likes to have something to do and there never is anything to do but wait once the plan is in place. The waiting makes him nauseous. 

His phone buzzes, he checks it again.

Ranboo: they said we can go as long as we text them when we get there and clean up after ourselves

Ranboo: so yeah, more lying but it should work

Perfect, everything is falling into place.

Chapter Text

“We need to switch to your phone,” Ranboo says.

“Why?” Tubbo asks, not looking away from the window. Trees crawl by at a snail's pace, Ranboo being far too nervous to drive anywhere near the speed limit on a mountain road. 

“Mines dying,” ey say.

“Plug it in.”

The car lapses into silence, alt rock barely audible behind the static on Ranboo’s old radio. Tubbo has checked the other radio channels, it’s all talk other than this one out here. 

Ranboo doesn’t move to plug their phone in.

“Ran, just plug your phone in,” Tubbo tells em.

“I uh, can’t,” Ranboo says. 

“What do you mean you can’t? Mate, the charger is right there,” Tubbo gestures to the phone charger coiled in the old cupholder, the shitty old car outlet has a charging port in it.

“It’s uh, it’s broken,” Ranboo says with an awkward nod.

“You should get a new car,” Tubbo says. This is an old and well worn argument that will probably never be resolved. 

“I like this car,” Ranboo says, as always, “I bought it myself, I can’t afford to buy a newer one.”

“Your grandparents have literally offered to buy you a car,” Tubbo points out, also as always.

“I don’t want my grandparents to buy me a car! I worked really hard for this car, I like it!” 

“You wouldn’t need to borrow my phone if you just got a new car,” Tubbo mutters, but he does pull up the gps on his phone and punch in Technoblade’s address. It takes fucking forever to load, the reception out here is shit.

“I can take it in to get fixed later, I just didn’t think about it,” Ranboo says. 

“You didn’t think to get your car charger fixed but you put together a care package?” Tubbo asks, patting the bag he’s got in his lap. He’s just making fun of Ranboo, but ey sputter like ey weren’t expecting it.

“Well uh- we don’t- we don’t know the conditions that we’ll find Tommy in, you know, if we find him, he might need medical attention!” Ranboo points out.

“And uh,” Tubbo looks in the large backpack, it’s overfilled with all sorts of junk, “three big gatorades?” 

“He could be dehydrated! It’s the same bag I bring every time anyways, thinking to bring that is totally different than remembering to fix my charger.”

Tubbo checks the expiration date on one of the granola bars.

“You just bought these,” he points out.

“I’m good at routine stuff!” 

“Is this routine now? I feel like we don’t do this often enough for it to be routine,” Tubbo points out.

Ranboo pauses, the mood in the car drops a lot.

“Yeah, yeah Tubbo it’s routine.”

There’s no fun way to respond to that, so Tubo doesn’t. He takes Ranboo’s phone off the phone stand and drops it in the bag before putting his own phone on the stand in its place. 

The alt rock drops off into static. Ranboo turns it off.

The dirt road crunches under the car tires, Tubbo goes back to looking at trees through the window.

Ranboo’s fingers drum against the steering wheel.

“I got accepted,” ey say. 

Tubbo keeps looking at the trees. It takes a second to understand what ey mean.

“Like, to college?” 

“Um, yeah, a couple actually, L’Manburg central, Western, SCU, you know,” Ranboo trails off, Tubbo turns to look at em, but ey’re very very focused on the road, ey don’t even glance at Tubbo.

“Cool,” Tubbo says. He hasn’t even applied, he figured he would just go to a community college for a year and then apply to a real school after. After finding Tommy of course. 

“Um, yeah, it is, I was thinking LMC or SCU, they both- they have really good accommodation programs. For nonbinary and um, disabled students, and that’s- that’s pretty important to me,” ey stutter, eir voice sounding shaky, nervous. 

Tubbo’s heart is doing that fluttery thing again and his stomach flips.

“Those are pretty far away,” Tubbo points out.

“Yeah, um, yeah they are. I don’t know if I’ll be able to-” ey pause and take a deep breath, “I don’t think I’ll be able to drive you around.”

Tubbo’s hands are numb, his tongue feels weird in his mouth.

“Ok, that’s fine,” Tubbo says. 

“Yeah?” Ranboo asks.

“Yeah,” Tubbo says, “I’ll just make Tommy get his license. He probably won’t be ready to go to college by next year and dad said like, forever ago that he can move in when he’s eighteen, so,” he shrugs “Tommy can just drive me places.”

“Oh,” Ranboo says slowly, “sure, I guess that makes sense.”

Tubbo nods. They both sit in silence. 

“This isn’t the right driveway,” Tubbo says as Ranboo starts to turn.

“Oh sorry, sorry,” Ranboo says, ey back up and keep driving. They both fall back into silence until they find the right driveway. It’s not very hard, it’s one of two for like, miles.

“Do you want me to wait here?” Ranboo asks, looking at the locked gate. 

“Nah, I don’t want to make Tommy walk all the way down here,” Tubbo says, as he throws the supply bag into eir lap. 

“Are you sure he’s gone?” Ranboo asks, eyes darting up and down the road.

“Prob’ly, he’d have to leave around now to get to the shops when he does every time he goes out. I wanted to get here early so we could watch him leave but you decided the speed limit is twice what it should be,” Tubbo points out.

“It’s dangerous out here! Mountain roads and- and there could be rock-slides,” Ranboo points out. 

“I didn’t think of the rock-slides. That changes everything,” Tubbo chirps as he pops the car door open. Ranboo just rolls eir eyes.

Tubbo climbs out of eir shitty old sedan and walks up to the gate. It's old, kind of gross, rusty and shit. It’s chained shut. Tubbo doesn’t really get why Techno would chain his gate shut when he lives in the middle of nowhere. Or well, he does, he knows cause he knows he’s a serial killer. Serial kidnapper. Maybe both. It doesn’t really matter, he’s doing big crimes, that’s why he keeps his gate locked.

“You gotta open the trunk, I need the bolt cutters,” Tubbo calls back to Ranboo, he can see the way ey sigh by the slope of eir shoulders. The trunk pops open. 

There is something about cutting through a chain that really makes something feel like a crime. Tubbo just reminds himself that tresspassing would have been illegal either way. 

The gate squeaks loudly when Tubbo opens it, not too surprising, from what Tubbo saw from his bank statements Technoblade doesn’t leave his property much, so his gate is probably super rusty. 

Tubbo throws the bolt cutters back in Ranoo’s trunk and climbs back in eir car. 

“We’re going to be in so much trouble,” Ranboo mutters.

“It’s fine, no one is gonna catch us,” Tubbo brushes em off, “besides, he deserves it.”

Ranboo hugs the bag close to eir chest with one arm, but does start driving with eir other hand. 

“What if he’s here? Last time-”

“He’s super consistent with his spending, he’s gonna be out grocery shopping and the closest town to here is like, at least an hour and a half drive, so he’s gonna be gone all day,” Tubbo explains. 

“It’s weird that you know that.”

“Well you didn’t want to get caught so-”

“That doesn’t mean you should be stalking people’s bank accounts,” Ranboo says.

Tubbo rolls his eyes. 

“It’s the best way to-” Tubbo almost faceplants into the dashboard as Ranboo slams on the breaks. 

“What the fu-” his voice is drowned out by barking. His eyes flick up, out the window. That would be why Ranboo stopped the car, there’s a big white dog in the middle of the road, barking like crazy. It’s so big that Tubbo thinks he can see every one of its teeth when it barks, even from the car.

“We should- I think we should just go,” Ranboo says, hand drifting to the gearshift.

“Cause of the dog?” Tubbo asks, the dog is still standing in the middle of the driveway, but it’s quieted down. It’s still holding its head down, stance all stiff and ridged, it creeps closer to the car, Tubbo doesn’t care much though, it’s just a dog.

“It’s- this is dangerous you know? Like, this is a farm person, farm people have like, guns and stuff- and- and yeah! That looks like a really dangerous dog!” Ranboo points out.

“Ok, so?” Tubbo asks. 

“So you could get hurt! We’re not supposed to be here Tubbo! We could get shot or- or arrested! This is so illegal and- I don’t think my college is gonna be fine with it if I get arrested for breaking and entering!”

”Really Ran? Tommy is in trouble and you’re worried about college?” 

“I just don’t think we should throw everything away for someone who's probably-” Ranboo cuts emself off. 

“Probably what?” Tubbo asks. 

Ranboo takes a deep breath and doesn’t take eir eyes off the dog.

“I don’t want to hit a dog with my car,” ey say finally.

“Just drive slow, it’ll move, dogs are smart,” Tubbo tells em, crossing his arms and settling back into the passenger seat. 

Ranboo doesn’t argue, ey just roll the car forward slowly. It sets off the dog again, but Tubbo is right, it gets out of the way, walking alongside the car and barking like crazy. Tubbo tries not to pay attention to it. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.

The driveway is long, stupid long, and Ranboo takes it really really slowly, so Tubbo feels like it takes forever to get to the house.

Tubbo knew what the house looked like, at least generally, it’s changed since pictures of it got uploaded to the realty site, since Technoblade bought it. 

Just not in the way that Tubbo would have thought.  

The realty site really had to play up how much of a fixer upper this place was, Tubbo saw the pictures. The siding was falling off, the porch railing sagging, the yard a mess of weeds. Tubbo couldn’t say how the inside used to look, there weren’t pictures on the site. Tubbo expected it to look worse.

There’s kind of janky shutters on the front windows, but the front windows are intact, and there are shutters on the house now, the siding is all cleaned up, there’s a bed of well cared for plants in front of the house, and the lawn is filled with overgrown grass and clover yes, but nothing near the unruly field there used to be. 

Well, serial killers can have hobbies, Tubbo supposes, maybe home repairs are this guy’s. 

Ranboo pulls in between the detached garage and the house. Ey take a shaky breath and hug the bag to eir chest again. 

“Are you gonna-” Ranboo gets cut off as the car lurches, both of them jump and jerk to attention as the fucking dog sniffs at the windshield, which it can reach because it’s on the hood of the car.

“Oh,” Ranboo says.

“Huh,” Tubbo says, “welp.”

Tubbo unbuckles his seatbelt. The dog must see the movement behind the glass because it goes off barking again. It’s so close and loud the glass vibrates and dog spit spatters all over the windshield. 

“You probably um, shouldn’t get out of the car,” Ranboo says, nodding towards the giant barking dog on the hood.

“Why?” 

“Because,” Ranboo waves to the dog.

“It’s just a dog,” Tubbo points out, 

“It’s- Tubbo, that dog probably weighs more than you. Do you see its teeth?” 

Tubbo does see the dog’s teeth, it would be hard not to. They’re big teeth.

“Ok,” Tubbo says, “stay in the car, keep it running so we can get out fast.”

He opens his car door. Ranboo squeaks behind him as the car lurches from the dog jumping off the hood and circling on Tubbo. 

“Tubbo!” Ranboo shouts. Tubbo steps out of the car, ignoring em. The dog jumps back, still barking but keeping its distance. 

Tubbo figured it would, most dogs won’t actually go for the bite. You just have to have the confidence.

At least Tubbo is pretty sure he heard that once.

Tubbo shuts the door behind him, cutting off any further protests from Ranboo.

The dog stands there, barking loud and growling, occasionally feigning a jump towards Tubbo. Tubbo ignores it, walking around the car and towards the porch. He’s not sure how he’s getting in the house yet, he doubts that Technoblade left the door unlocked. 

Something catches on Tubbo’s sweater, almost knocking him on his face and maybe even almost tearring the sweater that Tommy made. Tubbo spins to glare at the dog, his heart starting to pound. It keeps barking, it’s getting more bold in its lunges, breath huffing over Tubbo’s hands, teeth catching on his clothes.

“Shit!” he shrieks as the dog grabs the leg of his pants, dragging Tubbo off his feet. His hands slam on the damp cold dirt, he’s barely able to keep his head from hitting the ground as his breath is knocked out of him. The dog jumps back, barks pitching higher. It’s teeth are level with Tubbo’s face and one of his muddy paws slamming against his chest and Tubbo can’t breathe and-

“Steve!” Tubbo’s head jerks towards the voice, so fucking familiar and-

“Off!” Tommy shouts, hanging out one of the front windows. The dog quiets and steps away from Tubbo but honestly who even gives a shit about the dog. 

Tubbo scrambles to his feet, glances back at the car. Ranboo is sitting there, jaw dropped. Ey reach for the door handle but Tubbo motions for em to wait, better for em to be ready to drive.

He looks back to Tommy. 

Tommy. 

Holy shit it’s Tommy!

He’s got a window open, hands on the sill, leaning out, looking down at the dog and Tubbo. 

“Tubbo?” Tommy asks.

Tubbo can’t get his breath back, his lungs feel like they’re being squeezed. He steps towards the house.

The fucking dog starts barking again.

“Steve! Fuck mate! Shut up!” Tommy shouts over the barking. The dog quiets to whining and then starts barking again.

Tommy rolls his eyes and gives Tubbo a look, the kind of look they used to give each other when they were getting tired of someone else’s dumbassery. 

It’s the same as it always was.

Tommy disappears from the window. Tubbo stumbles forward, he- he has to, he can’t lose him again he can’t-

The dog is losing it again but who cares. Tubbo wades into the bushes under the window. He can’t reach the sill but the porch is close, Tubbo can climb up on the side of the porch. The wood is cool and damp under his fingers, but provides perfectly acceptable grip under his shoes, and the railing doesn’t sag at all as he climsb it. The dog snaps at him again, and again it manages to snag the leg of Tubbo’s jeans. Tubbo clings to the railing of the porch, barely keeping himself from being yanked off. He can hear the tearing of fabric but who cares? Tommy is in this house, he’s behind this window. 

Tubbo leans away from the porch, one hand clinging to the railing, the other reaching for the window. It’s a stretch, but he manages to get a grip on the sill with his one hand and -

Teeth connect with Tubbo’s ankle, wet and cold and- Tubbo’s feet slip from the edge of the porch. He flails for the window sill, manages to grab it with his other hand, but that just leaves him hanging, prone, wet hot dog breath huffing against his ankles. 

Holy shit this dog is gonna rip him off the side of the house and maul him.

“Oi!” Tommy’s voice comes from right above him, the dog quiets again.

“Steve what did I- what the fuck are you doing?” 

Tubbo looks up at Tommy, who’s looking at him with confusion.

“Just hanging out,” Tubbo wheezes. His fingers are quickly starting to hurt.

“Fucking- Tubbo-” thin warm fingers wrap around Tubbo’s wrists. Tommy tries to pull him up, which he’s bad at, but that’s fine, now that he’s stable Tubbo can plant his feet against the basic ass white siding on the house and hoist himself in the window. 

He falls into a bed, soft sheets pressing against his face. Tommy is kneeling on the bed next to him, dirt clinging to the knees of his jeans and settled under his nails. Now that Tubbo is close he can see the way he’s- the same. He’s not totally the same, but he’s basically the same. His hair is long now, tied back from his face so it won’t get in the way, but it’s shiny and not matted or anything. That kind of makes sense, right? Techno has long hair, maybe he doesn’t let Tommy cut it so they look alike? 

It’s hard to care about that when Tommy is here.

Tommy is here.

Tommy is here and he’s opening a glass jar full of jerky.

“Steve, come’ere boy,” he calls, dangling a piece of jerky out the window. It’s too high off the ground for the dog to reach, so Tubbo doesn’t see it but Tommy drops the jerky out the window and smiles.

“Sorry he’s kind of a dick,” Tommy says, “he’s a very good boy, I promise, he just doesn’t like new people.”

Tubbo sits up, knells in front of Tommy.  Tommy smiles at him. 

Tommy is in front of him, smiling at him.

For just a moment Tubbo is home, he’s in his own bed, kneeling on his old dinosaur quilt from when he was a toddler, Tommy with him, bitching about teachers or whatever it was that seemed important to them at the time. 

Tommy cocks his head, opens his mouth like he’s about to ask a question.

Tubbo hugs him.

Tubbo’s not a hug person, he’s never really understood them. Usually long hugs just make his skin crawl but here and now? Tubbo can’t imagine anything better than this, burying his face in Tommy’s shoulder, holding him tightly. He’s less skinny than Tubbo thought he would be, still lean and thin under his sweater, but not the kind of thin he used to be, not scary skinny.

“Hey Tubso,” Tommy says, hugging him back. His voice is kind of shaky, Tubbo would make fun of him, but the back of his throat feels weird and he thinks if he tried his voice would shake too.

“Hey, could you-” Tommy pulls back. 

Tubbo jerks back like he’s been burned, Tommy has never pulled out of a hug with him but- fuck Tubbo didn’t even think that he might be hurt. 

Tommy is rubbing his shoulder and wincing, rolling it like he’s trying to get a knot out.

“You ok?” Tubbo asks, “you hurt? If you need an ambulance or something-”

“Nah,” Tommy says, “my shoulder has been fucked basically forever, don’t worry about it.” 

Tommy’s shoulder has not been fucked forever, Tubbo would have known that. 

“Ok, we’ll get you to a doctor, let's go,” Tubbo says. This should have been the way he opened, actually he probably shouldn’t have climbed in the window at all, he’s probably contaminating the crime scene or something. He doesn’t know what came over him. 

He peers out the window. The dog is still there, standing under the window. It barks again when Tubbo sticks his head out to look at it. The dog listens to Tommy though, so that’s probably not an issue. 

“Oh uh, yeah you probably should go, I’m fucking- I’m glad to see you but you should- now isn’t a good time,” Tommy says, like Tubbo has dropped by while one of his foster parents is in a bad mood.

“Good- mate this is the only time, let's go,” Tubbo says, tugging on Tommy’s sleeve. 

“It’s not- Techno is gonna be back soon and I haven’t really talked to him about- I can’t leave ok? I just- maybe this summer when- yeah if you come back when I’m like eighteen, I think that-”

“Techno just left, I timed it,” Tubbo assures him, “now is literally the best time, we need-”

“He’s gonna turn around, he’s probably already coming back,” Tommy interrupts. 

“Why would he-” Tubbo stops, something horrible dawning on him.

Ok, so. Stockholm syndrome isn’t a thing. Tubbo knows this. There’s no spot for it in the DSM, no real studies or evidence, but there’s anecdotal evidence, and there’s stuff that’s similar. Battered person syndrome, trauma bonding, shit like that, being kept captive fucks up people’s brains.

“You told him?” Tubbo asks. 

Tommy’s brows furrow, his head cocks.

“What? How would I even? Steve’s got a tracking collar thing, it texts Techno when he barks. He’s gonna come back.”

Ok, Tommy didn’t sell him out, that’s good, he hasn’t, like, totally lost his mind or anything. 

“Then we’ve gotta go now,” Tubbo tells him.

“ You have to go, I can’t- I’m-” Tommy cuts himself off and looks away.

Tubbo looks him over. He’s not- he doesn’t look hurt, he’s not chained or tied up or anything, he could get out the window, probably, unless he’s hurt in some way Tubbo can’t see.

“Tommy, we can go, ok, we can- we’ll go home and get this guy arrested and-” 

“I can’t ,” Tommy says.

The stupid fucking dog starts barking again, it’s leaveing though, running down the driveway. Tommy stiffens, eyes going wide. 

“You really have to go,” he says, pushing Tubbo towards the window, “that’s Techno and he’s- fuck-” 

Tubbo looks out the window, there’s a dark blue SUV coming around the bend.

“Fuck,” Tommy hisses, “fuck- ok, ok uh,” he slams the window shut and yanks the blinds down. 

“Ok, ok, you need to hide,” Tommy says, scrambling off the bed and looking around.

“Closet?” Tubbo offers.

“There aren’t any,” Tommy tells him. Huh. weird.

“Under the bed? Either of them?” There are two beds, which Tubbo thinks is good, that means Tommy at least has a bed to sleep in, hopefully.

“They have uh, storage bins,” Tommy says, grabbing Tubbo’s wrist and dragging him off the bed.

“What about-” Tommy opens the bedroom door and drags Tubbo into the main part of the house. Tubbo hasn’t ever seen the inside of Technoblade’s house, either from the realty site before he moved in or from his or any family members' social media. It’s… not really what Tubbo expected. 

Most criminals have shitty houses, that’s just something that you notice when you look at a lot of crime scene pictures. This house is actually really normal. 

“Ok, ok, fuck, uhhh,” Tommy paces anxiously by the table, glancing between the front door and Tubbo. Tubbo can hear an engine getting closer, he hopes Ranboo hides or calls the cops or something. 

“What are these doors?” Tubbo asks, waving to the two doors lining the wall next to the bedroom door. 

His hands are shaking, he doesn’t know why.

“Uh, bathroom and laundry room,” Tommy says.

“Ok, I hide in the laundry room, you distract Technoblade, uh, get him into the bedroom and I’ll run and get the police,” 

“No police,” Tommy hisses, “that’s just- they’d fuck me over Tubbo, just run, come back this summer, like, I dunno, a couple days before my birthday.” 

“I can’t just leave you-” Tommy throws open one of the doors.

“Trust me, just fucking- just go. Techno wouldn’t hurt me but- you need to fucking go,” Tommy snaps. He shoves Tubbo into the room and shuts the door.

Tubbo is left standing in a dim room, the only light coming in from a tiny window in the shower while Tommy is just on the other side.

He’d like to note that this is not a laundry room, it’s a bathroom.

Might be for the best, Tubbo has nausea growing in his gut.

Tubbo would rather not throw up in a serial killer’s house.

The sound of the front door opening is muffled by the bathroom door, but not enough for Tubbo to not cringe at the loud slam. 

There’s a long enough pause that Tubbo thinks he might just not be able to hear voices through the door but then-

“So uh, what’s up with the car?” Technoblade sounds- not like Tubbo expected actually. His voice is deep and shockingly casual, like he’s asking his friend who gave them a ride instead of asking his kidnapping victim about the escape attempt he just walked in on.

“What car?” Tommy asks, voice squeaky and nervous. Tubbo can already tell this is going to go badly.

“The car sitting in the front yard,” Technoblade’s voice is flat and unamused. 

Tubbo wonders if it’s worth it to try to fit through that tiny window.

“Oh! That car! Yeah, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Tommy says.

Tubbo climbs into the shower and jiggles the window handle. It’s either locked or really stuck from never being opened.

“Yeahhh, suuure, I believe that,” Technoblade drawls. Tubbo yanks at the window handle, it has a bit of give, does that mean it’s just stuck?

“You should, I have never lied in my life, you know that? I can’t even lie, like, physically.” Tubbo does not have much time before Technoblade realizes that Tommy is guarding the bathroom door.

“Sure, disregarding all the times you’ve lied to me.” It’s hard to get a good yank on the handle of the window, mostly because Tubbo is short and the window is kind of high up.

“What? When have I ever lied to you, Techno? Name one time I lied, with proof and citations please.'' Maybe Tubbo can put his height to use.

“Why are you standing in front of the bathroom like that?” Tubbo grabs the handle with both hands and yanks hard, he’s rewarded with a light cracking, but the handle doesn’t twist yet.

“I like this spot, it’s a good spot, what? You can’t tell a good spot when it’s staring you in the face?” Tubbo needs to put his whole weight into it, clearly.

“Get out of the way, Tommy.” Tubbo adjusts his grip on the handle, takes a deep breath, and lifts his feet off the ground.

“I don’t think I will,” Tommy’s voice comes through the door.

Shit, even with his whole weight this window is not fucking opening.

“Tommy, don’t make me carry you.” the window makes another cracking sound, the handle jerking down just a bit.

“You can’t carry me, I’m waaay to fucking massive for that.” 

The handle jerks again with a deafening crack and then Tubbo is fucking falling , the window smacking against his forehead before tumbling to the bottom of the tub. The sound of shattering glass and the echo of that fucking dog barking fill his ears.

The door slams open and Tubbo doesn’t have the time to think about what just happened, he only knows the window is open and he fucking needs to get through it. 

He scrambles to his feet and grabs the window frame, feet slipping over the edge of the tub, window frame scraping over his shoulders, blinding sun on his face. Then something wraps around his ankle. 

Tubbo’s yelp is cut off when his jaw slams on the window frame as he’s dragged back into the house. 

“Don’t fucking- Techno- Tech-” Tommy is shouting, someone is fucking screaming, Tubbo feels like he’s been pinned to a brick wall, his desperate kicking making absolutely no difference. 

“Bruh, you broke my window,” a deep, far too casual voice says right next to Tubbo’s ear, close enough that Tubbo can feel his breath on his face.

Holy shit, Tubbo is being restrained by a serial killer. 

He’s being held off the ground, back to the chest of a serial killer and kidnapper, their arm vice tight around his chest and-

Tubbo gags.

“Oh fuck, he’s gonna throw up.” 

“Heh?” serial killers should not be allowed to act so casually. Tubbo can’t say that though, because he’s wracked with another gag and his mouth is filling with saliva.

“Oh no, nope, I’m am not-” Technoblade grunts, his grip on Tubbo shifting. 

Tubbo’s knees crack against the bathroom tile, a hand grips his hair and shoves him over the toilet as bile crawls up his throat. 

“Why do you kids all throw up so much?” Technoblade grumbles above Tubbo. His hand gripping Tubbo’s hair and keeping him hovering over the toilet while he alternates between puking his guts out and trying to gasp for breath, which is really hard by the way, considering all the muscles in his whole fucking abdomen are deciding that right now is a good time to seize up.

“Maybe cause you keep slamming people into walls, Techno, did you ever think of that?” Technoblade’s grip on Tubbo’s hair shifts, his nails scraping Tubbo’s scalp. Tubbo wheezes as another wave of nausea rises in him.

“I didn’t slam him into a wall, he’s the one who got stuck in a window. One that’s not even supposed to open, by the way,” Technoblade says. Tubbo wretches into the toilet, he doesn’t really have anything else to puke up but his body won’t stop trying. 

“Well you’re not supposed to kidnap people so-” 

“I didn’t kidnap this one, he just showed up!” Tubbo gasps down what air he can, hands scrabbling against the cool bathroom tile around the toilet. 

“You kidnapped me!” 

“That was years ago, you gotta move on,” Tubbo’s vision is starting to go black around the edges.

“Could you let go of him? He’s fucking-” Tubbo jerks forward when Techno suddenly drops his grip on his hair. His body trying to curl in on itself. 

“Does he have- asthma or something? Is there an inhaler or medicine we should be looking for?” Technoblade’s voice sounds distant.

“He does this sometimes when he has too much caffeine,” Tommy says, “just- give him some space.” 

“Alright, alright, I’m gonna uh, grab something for the window,” Technoblade says.

Tubbo can hear the shuffle of people moving but his brain is fucking frying, he’s still nauseous and he can’t take a whole fucking breath and he can’t see and- and- and-

“Tubbo?” Tommy asks. His thin, long fingers brush against the back of Tubbo’s hand, Tubbo grabs for it. The relief of having Tommy right here is- it’s better than nothing.

“So uh, I’ve been thinking recently about getting into sewing, I mean like really getting into it, cause I’ve been fixing clothes for a while now, but I don’t really make anything, right? So I’ve been thinking that like, I could, you know? Like, I already sew some cause of the knitting but I could sew normal stuff, you know? I have a machine, it’s been like, I dunno, sitting around for a year or something but I haven’t had fabric you know? But uh, Techno got me some for my uh- Techno got me some.”

Tubbo is barely listening to Tommy’s rambles, he’s too busy trying to manually force his muscles to do what they have to in order to fucking breathe . It doesn’t help that he’s mostly just hearing the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

“Fuck,” Tubbo huffs, finally getting a handle on breathing again. His mouth tastes like bile, his ears full of Tommy’s chatter and the sound of something dripping into water. His vision starts to return and he gets the very fun visual of blood dripping into a toilet bowl full of his puke. 

“I’m bleeding?” 

“Your chin mate,” Tommy tells him. 

Tubbo uses his free hand to bush over his chin and yeah, it’s wet, slippery, weirdly warm. His fingers come back brilliant red. It doesn’t hurt, not yet at least. When the adrenaline wears off it’s gonna be a bitch.

“You probably scraped it on the window frame,” Tommy tells him.

“Yeah,” Tubbo breathes. 

Things get quiet again. Tubbo can hear Technoblade banging around in the other room, the sounds of cabinets opening and closing, the clink of metal on metal, Tubbo can’t remember what he said he was doing. Maybe they could escape now?

As if he knows that Tubbo is thinking about him, Technoblade appears in the doorway with plastic trash bags and duct tape. Tubbo’s heart starts doing that fluttery thing again.

Tommy, for some reason that Tubbo doesn’t think he’s ever gonna understand, flushes the toilet. 

“Don’t-” Technoblade starts, “please don’t freak out again.”

“Hey! He wasn’t freaking out! You slammed his head into a window frame!” Tommy snaps at him. Tubbo wants to slap his hand over Tommy’s mouth and tell him to shut the fuck up and not antagonize the serial killer . 

“Bruh, I was trying to keep him from falling headfirst out a window,” Technoblade says casually.

“To be fair, he was trying to get out of that window cause he was trying to leave.” 

“Why is he even here ?” 

“I dunno! I didn’t invite him!” 

Technoblade sighs heavily and turns to Tubbo.

“Why are you here?” he asks.

What the fuck is Tubbo supposed to say to that!? 

“Vacation,” he spits out. 

“Vacation,” Technoblade repeats, dragging the word out like he’s trying to make Tubbo really think about how stupid that response is. 

“Yup,” Tubbo chokes out. His nausea comes back full force, his heart pattering weirdly. 

Technoblade nods along.

“Vacation. To my private home.”

“Yes.” 

“It makes sense to me,” Tommy agrees.

“What happened to you not being able to lie?” Technoblade asks.

“I can’t lie! I’m not lying!” 

“You are so obviously lying-”

“I have never ever lied! It makes sense Techno, it fucking-”

“It doesn’t,” Technoblade says, simple and definitive. 

“Oh my god it totally does, I’m sorry if you don’t get it -”

“There’s nothing to get,” 

Tubbo sits by the toilet, shaking, pressing a tissue to his bleeding chin while Tommy banters with a serial killer like they’ve been friends for years.

Tubbo jerks away as Technoblade gets closer.

“I’m just trying to get to the window,” he says, nodding to the bathtub. 

Tubbo glaces over and yeah, he kind of fucked that up. The window frame sits empty, the sash in the bathtub, splintered wood no longer holding the shattered glass pane.

“Why did you have a handle on a window that doesn’t open?” Tubbo asks. He’s really good at asking questions that are pretty stupid given the circumstances. 

“I dunno, I didn’t install it. Could probably put one that actually opens in now,” Technoblade says with a shrug. 

He’s in the back of the bathroom, looking at the wall, his back to Tommy and Tubbo, nothing blocking them from the front door. Tubbo’s muscles are trembling. 

He squeezes Tommy’s hand to get his attention, then nods towards the door. 

Tommy gives him a confused look. Fine, alright, Tubbo will just lead by example. 

He bolts out of the bathroom, feet thumping on hardwood, knees shaky and hard to stand on. He stumbles right into the door, clammy hand wrapping around the cool doorknob and turning. 

It doesn’t budge when Tubbo yanks, so he starts feeling for the deadlock and- it’s a key lock, even on the inside it’s a key-

Tubbo sheriks as a bruising grip wraps around his arm and yanks him away from the door. 

“Don’t fucking hurt him!” Tommy shouts from the bathroom doorway.

“I’m not hurting him, he’s dramatic,” Technoblade complains, pulling Tubbo along towards the bedroom.

Tubbo not fucking taking this without a fight, he plants his feet and takes a swing at Technoblade’s stomach, trying to take him off guard and knock the breath out of him.

His fist makes contact with a hollow sounding thunk and a blank look from Technoblade.

“Bruh,” he says flatly, unaffected, before yanking Tubbo along.

“He’s not dramatic, you’re fucking dragging him around! You can’t fucking do that!” Tommy is shouting.

“He just punched me Tommy, I’m pretty sure I can drag him around a little.”

“He punched you because you started dragging him around,” Tommy argues. Tubbo doesn’t understand what he’s trying to do here.

“Yeah well, he can stay in the bedroom so that doesn’t happen again,” Technoblade grumbles before throwing Tubbo onto the bed- a bed, there are two beds in the room and this isn’t the one Tubbo climbed over to get into the room.

The window.

Tubbo scrambles to get off the bed as Technoblade grabs his ankle, sending him tumbling to the ground and slamming his already bleeding chin into the thick rug under him. 

He jerks his foot out of Technoblade’s grip and hears the clanking of metal on metal. 

He glances back.

He’s handcuffed to the bed.

Why does the bedframe even have chains on it? Tubbo isn’t sure he wants to know. 

“Ok, you just- you’re going to stay here, and I’m going to fix that window and figure out what I’m gonna do with you,” Technoblade sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

Tubbo is having trouble breathing again. 

“And I’m gonna get him a trash can to puke into,” Technoblade mutters. 

Tubbo tries to just focus on the floor and not on the fact that a serial killer just chained him to a bed.

“You uh, need help?” Tommy asks from the doorway, “it’s kinda a bitch to get back in bed if you fall off so…” Tommy trails off.

Tubbo tries to pull himself off the ground and quickly realizes that Tommy is right, it is fucking hard to stand up when your ankle is chained to a bedframe. 

Tommy practically drags Tubbo back onto the bed, the cuff digging painfully into his skin. He’s left sitting on a- yarn blanket? One of those grandma blankets made out of repeating squares- on a bed in a serial killer’s house. On what is probably Tommy’s bed in a serial killer's house, if the familiar worn cow plush at the head of the bed is what Tubbo thinks it is. 

“He still getting sick?” Tubbo jerks at Technoblade’s voice, the chain clattering again. He’s back, standing in the doorway, trash bin in hand

“I dunno, you gonna puke again?” Tommy asks, Tubbo stares at him as he casually looks Tubbo over, like he expects them to be able to have a real normal conversation while a serial killer stands in the doorway. 

“Yeah you should probably…” Technoblade inches just past the threshold and stretches his arm out to offer a bin to Tommy, like he doesn’t want to get close to Tubbo.

Good, Tubbo doesn’t want him to get close either.

Tommy passes along the bin, so at least if Tubbo does need to puke again he won’t have to do it all over Tommy’s sheets. 

“What’s uh, wrong with him?” Technoblode asks.

“Nothing, Tubbo is flawless, there has never been anything wrong with him,” Tommy defends immediately.

Tubbo has a headache, and his throat hurts, and he’s still nauseous, and he’s so fucking tired. He’s still bleeding too, blood dripping onto his jumper and jeans. 

That’s kind of upsetting. Tubbo doesn’t know how to fix blood stains.

Technoblade gives Tubbo a long flat look. Tubbo can’t help but think that he’s studying him, and probably not too happy with what he’s seeing. It doesn’t help Tubbo to breathe any better.

“Yeah, ok, is he gonna keep throwing up everywhere?” 

“Uhhh, he probably drank too much redbull to get up and drive out here so early,” Tommy says, perfectly cheerful, like when he’s explained nearly the same thing to school nurses when Tubbo used to have to rush out of exams to puke “so like, maybe with food we should stick to like? Toast for him? At least for a little while.”

Technoblade nods. 

“Been there yeah,” he says, “get him some water and then come help me with the window he broke.”

“You have not been there,” Tommy accuses, “there’s no way you have ever drank Redbull.”

“I went to college, Tommy, I drank a lot of Redbull,” Technoblade plays along. 

Tubbo throws up again. Or well, he dry heaves into a plastic bin, there isn’t really anything else in him to throw up.

“Get him a drink before he dies of dehydration on your bed,” Technoblade says before stepping away from the door.

Tommy takes a step, like he’s going to leave, and Tubbo lunges to grab his sleeve. 

“We need to get out of here,” Tubbo hisses to him.

Tommy’s eyes flick from Tubbo to the bedroom door. 

“I’m- I’m working on it,” Tommy tells him. 

Then he brushes Tubbo off and walks out the door.

“Hey Techno, did you know that I’m the oldest in my friend group?” Tommy asks loudly.

“Ranboo turned eighteen in September,” Technoblade’s voice comes from the bathroom.

“Ok, yeah, but ey don’t count, eir a newer addition to the group,” Tommy is saying.

Tubbo swallows down the sour sweet taste in the back of his mouth as something important dawns on him. 

He doesn’t know what happened to Ranboo.

Chapter Text

Ranboo is a bad friend. 

Ey know this, ey’ve been reminded of this nearly constantly since Tommy went missing. 

Tubbo isn’t like em, Tubbo cares, Tubbo is brave, Tubbo is willing to put his whole life on hold to look for Tommy. Tubbo is willing to throw himself to the wolves just for a chance to maybe find Tommy.

Not that the giant dog snapping at Tubbo is a wolf. Tubbo would probably be better off if it was a wolf. Wolves are supposed to be scared of people, right? 

This dog is definitely not scared of people.

Ranboo clutches the emergency bag closer to eir chest as ey watch Tubbo fearlessly cross the dead lawn, a dog probably more than capable of killing him quite literally nipping at his heels. 

Ranboo stiffens as the dog’s teeth catch on Tubbo’s sweater. Tubbo rounds on the dog and it jumps back to bark again, massive teeth flashing, spit flying from its maw. Ranboo doesn’t even have time to think before the dog lunges again, its teeth latching on Tubbo’s jeans and yanking him to the ground and-

Oh gods, Ranboo is about to watch eir friend get ripped apart by a guard dog because ey weren’t brave enough to refuse to drive him out to some random hermits house and-

 Both Tubbo’s and the dog’s heads jerk up towards the house and Ranboo can’t help but follow their gazes. 

There’s a person hanging out the window, pale and thin and with long blonde hair that falls over their shoulder in soft curls. They look kind of like Tommy, a lot like Tommy actually, Ranboo might actually think they were Tommy if Tommy wasn’t-

Ey realize eir hand is on the door handle and ey glance to Tubbo for, well, eir not sure what, guidance? Instruction? Tubbo motions for em to wait and Ranboo is happy to do just that, staying out of the range of the dog. 

Ranboo is a bad friend, so ey stay in the car and clutch the emergency bag even closer to eir chest while Tubbo is almost pulled back to the ground by the dog. Ey stay seated in eir car as Tubbo climbs in the window with this total stranger- they have to be a stranger, because Tommy is- 

Ey stay in the car and watch the dog pace under the window, ey catch some glimpses of Tubbo and the stranger talking though the window, but mostly ey just stare at the side of the house and try to scrape eir brain together.

That person- the person in the house is not Tommy. It can’t be, because Tommy is dead. Tommy is dead and Ranboo has known this for a while now and ey’ve been grieving and working on keeping eir life going and Tubbo has been stuck. Because Tubbo is a good friend and Ranboo isn’t.

Ranboo sinks down in eir seat and picks at the zipper on the emergency bag. 

Ey should text eir grandma, let her know that they made it to the summer house just fine. Tubbo would be upset if ey don’t support his alibi. 

Ey pull eir phone out of the bag and right- it’s dead. Fine ok, ey slip it into their slacks pocket and return to staring out the window blankly. 

If that’s Tommy inside then that means that Ranboo has been worried about getting into college while Tommy is being held captive by a serial killer.

There’s a chicken coop in front of em, kind of shabby looking, the chickens scrounging around in the dirt, a couple of ducks swimming in a kiddy pool. Surely, Ranboo thinks, the person in the house can’t be Tommy, because if they were then the owner of the house would be a serial killer, and serial killers are pretty well known for doing stuff like killing animals, so it wouldn’t make sense for one to have a bunch of healthy looking chickens and ducks. 

Right.

That’s not Tommy, this isn’t a serial killer’s house, because serial killers don’t have well groomed dogs and healthy small animals, because serial killers are monsters. This guy is not a serial killer and the person in the house is not Tommy and Tubbo is gonna get in trouble again for breaking and entering. 

Ranboo is also probably going to get in trouble for breaking and entering.

Eir not looking forward to eir grandparent’s disappointment. 

Ranboo takes a few deep breaths.

Eir fine, maybe ey won’t even get in trouble, maybe the kid in the house is just happy to have someone to hang out with for a little while and is going to send them on their way when Tubbo realizes that they’re not Tommy. 

And then Tubbo will start looking for his next suspect. 

Ranboo sighs.

The dog perks up. 

Ranboo expects it to start barking at the window again, but it doesn’t, it bolts down the driveway, barking at something that Ranboo can’t see. 

That’s… weird.

Or maybe it’s not, Ranboo wouldn’t know, eir not a dog person, ey’ve only ever had a cat. It seems weird though.

Then ey hear the engine.

Oh boy. 

Ranboo should not have trusted Tubbo about this guy being gone all day.

They’re going to get in so much trouble and Ranboo is going to lose eir college acceptance and-

Or-

Or that is Tommy in the house and the person pulling up now is a serial killer and Ranboo is- Ranboo is going to die if he sees em.

Ranboo catches a glimpse of the dark blue SUV and panics. 

Eir hand hits the door handle and ey scramble to open it, practically falling out when it does unlatch. 

Ey cower in front of the car as ey hear gravel crunching under tires. Eir hands shake as ey grip the emergency bag. 

Footsteps crunch over gravel, almost drowned out by the loud panting and pacing of the dog.

That could be a serial killer. 

He could kill Ranboo.

He could-

Ranboo scrambles around to the front of the car as the footsteps approach, trying to stay out of the maybe killer’s view. 

Ey hear the car door pop open, then the engine dies.

Ranboo holds eir breath, trying to not be heard now that the area has fallen nearly silent. 

The guy sighs loudly and slams the door closed. 

Ranboo doesn’t move a muscle, eir lanky form curled in front of eir now silent car, back to the still warm grill, probably getting road grime all over eir vest. 

“Great, this is great,” the man grumbles in frustration. 

Ranboo really wishes he would just move on.

Ranboo listens to the gravel crunching as he shits, then as it grows quieter slowly, as he leaves.

Ey risk a glimpse around the edge of the car. The guy is already most of the way back to his home, pausing to pat his massive dog on the head before climbing onto his porch.

He disappears into the house, leaving Ranoo to cower in front of eir car. 

Ok. ok. This is- this is fine, Ranboo is probably overreacting. What’s the likelihood that Tubbo actually found a serial killer? Low right? Really low. He’s been trying for ages and he hasn’t found anything. It would be insane to assume that he would find anything with his absolutely unhinged methods, right?

Ranboo glances around the car again. The man is gone, but the dog is still there, standing and looking up at the house expectantly.

Ranboo shifts the emergency bag onto eir back. Maybe ey can slip around the car and get back in? But the key is gone so it’s not like ey can just drive away. The car door might not even be unlocked anymore. If it is though that’s probably the safest place to hide, right?

Ey creep out from eir hiding spot, already reaching for the door handle. The dog’s ears perk, head swiveling to look at Ranboo with its beady black eyes.

There’s a moment where they’re both frozen, where Ranboo hopes against hope that this dog simply can’t see em when eir not moving. Is that dogs? Or are only lizards like that?

Apparently only lizards are like that. 

The dog bolts in Ranboo’s direction, barking loudly, teeth gashing, paws thundering against gravel. 

Ranboo does the only reasonable thing ey can think of and bolts in the opposite direction.

Ey dodge around the chicken coop and avoid the massive fence and barn and run full force towards the treeline, eir not going to outrun a dog, obviously, but it’s big, and hopefully it can’t traverse the tight trees of the forest as well as Ranboo can.

Eir dress shoes are definitely not made for running, the backs dig into eir heels painfully and ey twist an ankle the moment ey move from the relatively smooth landscape of the lawn and into the woods, but ey don’t stop moving, don’t stop running even as eir lungs burn and heave, not until something catches on eir foot and eir facedown in leaf litter. 

Ey scramble to get on eir back to- to at least kick the dog or something? But the dog is gone. 

Maybe it doesn’t go outside of the yard? Or maybe it figured the intruder in the house was more worth watching or maybe it just saw how thin and frail looking Ranboo is and decided that ey aren’t worth its time. 

Ranboo doesn’t know, Ranboo doesn’t know how dogs work.

Other than that if ey go back the dog will probably still be there, and probably still be willing to kill em. 

“Ok,” ey say to the air “this is fine, Ranboo, you’re fine, you’ve just got to- you’ve got to call the police. The police will show up and help, and then you can go home… except your phone is dead. Awesome. That’s fine, that’s fine, just- just gotta find someone who’s phone you can borrow.” 

Yeah, that will be easy, just- ey glance around.

It’s all just trees. 

Oh and also rocks.

Ey think that’s a cliff over there.

That’s- ok but ey do know there’s another house around here, ey almost turned into their driveway. 

All ey have to do is walk there. 

That shouldn’t take too long, it’s not like this is an extremely rural area where the mountains keep it from being easy to build housing or even set up hiking trails. But hey, if Ranboo walks straight in the direction that ey think the other house is in then maybe ey can even get there without falling off a mountain. 

Maybe.

Probably not. 

Ey’ll see.

That means walking though, which means standing. Taking things one step at a time.

Ranboo gets eir feet under em, rises with some twinges of pain, takes a step and-

Oh.

Oh yeah.

Eir ankle is really not having this.

It’s not the weight so much as any kind of shift that has eir ankle grinding, sending pain up eir knee, through eir hip, making em kind of want to just give up right then and there.

But nope, ey have to keep walking, because ey need to get a phone and not get eaten by a dog.

Just one foot in front of the other until eir finally out of the woods.

--

“You find something?” Techno calls. 

Steve turns to look at his person, the intruder disappearing off into the forest. Steve doesn’t think they’re much of a problem if they’re in the forest. There are lots of bad things in the forest and Steve’s person has never really cared. So long as they don’t get too close to The House

Steve wags and approaches his person, sniffing at him. 

He smells like himself mostly, and Tommy, and New Boy. He’s also got a big crinkly bag, the ones that usually smell faintly of food. This one doesn’t smell like food at all though, maybe a bit like blood, but mostly like The House. 

Techno sighs, but doesn’t call Steve good boy or pat him on the head or any of his usual things. He doesn’t have Tommy with him either, which is odd, Tommy is usually with him when he comes out of The House, unless he’s going for a Car Ride. 

Is Techno going for a Car Ride? He just got back from a Car Ride though.

He doesn’t usually come back and go again. 

He takes the crinkle bag into the car home and comes back out and then climbs into the car.

Alright, Steve will go back to work. Maybe Tommy will come outside to play with him. Tommy doesn’t come out to play with Steve when Techno is gone much anymore, but there’s always the possibility. 

Otherwise Steve will simply keep doing his job. 

But no, Techno doesn’t go for a Car Ride, he just puts the car back in its home and starts walking back to The House.

Steve sticks by him as he walks, but he doesn’t pet. Odd. Not good.

He stops at the stairs to The Porch and sighs loudly, rubbing his face. Steve licks his free hand, reminding him to pet, because Techno loves petting him, it always makes him less sad.

Techno does not pet him, Techno sits on the stairs.

This is good though, it gives Steve a good chance to smell his face. 

His face smells stressed. 

Steve licks his chin just to check and yes yes, his breath has the signature sweet smell of stress on it. 

“Don’t do that,” Techno says, pushing Steve's face away. He does not say “no” though, so Steve knows that’s only a suggestion. Obviously this means that he just keeps licking Techno’s face but more. 

“Ugh, Steve, I said no!” Techno says, which does mean no, but is only a no to the licking, so Steve crawls up onto Techno’s lap. 

Steve knows that at some point he used to fit entirely on his person’s lap, he’s not sure what changed that he can’t do that anymore, but that’s fine, he just rests his front paws on Techno’s lap and sniffs his hair. 

“You big baby,” Techno grumbles, burying his hands in Steve’s thick fur.

This is good, it makes Techno smell less stressed. 

“Yeah, you’re my big baby,” Techno sighs, resting his face against Steve’s chest and sighing again. 

Steve glances back to the treeline, just to make sure the intruder doesn’t come back.

“What am I doing?” Techno asks. Steve doesn’t know that phrase, so he changes nothing about what he’s doing. 

“How do you feel about Phil? Huh buddy? You want to stay with Phil for a while? Or uh, forever?” 

Steve looks around, but Phil isn’t here for Steve to bark at. 

“Yeah you would hate that, wouldn’t you?” 

Techno leans back and takes a sharp deep breath. 

“Ok. yeah, can’t get arrested, I have a dog to take care of,” Techno says, his voice is shaky. Steve has heard Techno’s voice get shaky like this before, but that was when he totally fit in his lap. That’s what Steve used to do when Techno sounded like this. 

Steve knows he can’t fit all of himself in Techno’s lap anymore, but he also knows that Tommy is better when he lays on top of him, so it feels like that will probably work here, yes? 

Steve brings his back paw onto Techno’s lap, thinking that he can probably climb on top of Techno if he just gets a good grip and-

“No, no we are not doing that,” Techno says, nudging Steve off his lap. Unfair, Steve is just helping.

“You’re good, you’re a good boy, I just don’t need you crushing my spine,” Techno tells him, scratching him behind the ear. 

“Ok,” Techno mutters, “alright, yeah, I make missing people cases happen all the time, I can do it again, easy. Yeah, yeah, I can do this, I can.”

He stands, so Steve can no longer reach his face, but Techno is doing the shaking voice thing again, so Steve does what he can and licks his person’s hand. 

“You’re alright,” Techno tells him, “everything is gonna be alright.”

Techno looks around the property, and Steve follows his lead, he looks to The House, to Steve’s spot on The Porch, to the barn where Henry and Clem rest, to the coop with all the birds that Steve isn’t supposed to play with. 

“I’m gonna keep everything under control.”