Chapter Text
Tommy’s new foster family is strange. He won’t lie. They’re really fucking strange.
Mostly because they’re nice and kind and patient. Very patient with him. Even when he snaps at them and shouts and swears.
He’s not yet been hit or screamed at. Hes not been starved or locked in a closet (foster family number four were the fucking worst, no matter how many chandeliers they had).
At first, he was more than a little intimidated by Technoblade. A hulking mass of a man with light pink hair and an obsession with medieval weaponry. Tommy’s not even joking when he says in the living room, an entire wall is a large glass display of crossbows and swords and daggers.
The man had smiled more of a grimace and told him, rather bluntly, “I’m not good with kids. That’s more of Phil’s thing. But if you need anything, just ask.”
Which is how Tommy met Phil.
Blond hair like Tommy’s, eyes a darker shade of blue and a kind, warm smile. He’d greeted Tommy with a simple, “hey, mate.”
Tommy’s social worker had spoken to Phil as if he was a fucking saviour for accepting Tommy into his home. All because of Tommy’s history with the foster system.
That history was a long list clearly detailing how volatile and aggressive Tommy was.
Fifteen foster homes.
All of which ended with Tommy running or getting kicked out.
Fifteen homes and Tommy started to prefer the cold streets.
Fifteen tries and Tommy would rather be dead.
He wishes his mother was alive. Even if she was the way she way, she did care for him.
He remembers watching The Incredibles with her, when she was coherent enough to sit on the couch with him. She used to tell him his father was on ‘Superhero Business’ and that she was a superhero on vacation.
His mum was a flawed woman, anyone could see that but she cared for him, for her son. His food was reachable in the fridge, and the microwave could be accessed so that he could feed himself if she was having a bad day.
She would hug him every night before bed. She would say, even in her drug-fuelled haze, that she was proud of him.
But Tommy’s mother died of a heroin overdose (not that Tommy believes that but the thought of it, of the man in the hallway and finding her leaves a sour taste in his mouth), his father wasn’t even listed on his birth certificate and fifteen houses later, he’s stuck with the Minecraft’s.
He has to deal with Technoblade’s amazing cooking and Phil’s overall kind nature.
And Wilbur.
His new foster brother.
Wilbur is studying the arts at college and he’s also nice to Tommy. He shows him how to play a guitar, listens to him rant about Animal Crossing and even plays a few of the theme songs for him.
Sure, he swears back at Tommy and calls him feral but his light pushes are never harsh and his words are never cutting.
So for the first month, Tommy is throughly confused.
They’re so good.
Too good.
It’s suspicious and he starts to push boundaries.
He refuses to eat and he snaps at them and snarls whenever someone even makes an indication that they’re going to touch him.
They don’t rise to it. He isn’t punished.
His stuff isn’t burnt (thanks, foster family number four). He isn’t beaten (foster family three, four, nine and ten). He isn’t screamed at (one, two, three, four, six, seven, twelve, fourteen, fifteen).
The Minecraft’s simply let him have his space. They still knock and don’t force his bedroom door open. They take him shopping and buy him clothes and pens for school. They still invite him for movie nights on Friday.
It doesn’t mean they let him walk all over them.
He has to eat something for the three meals of the day if not Techno resorts to begging which is horrifying and deeply unnerving. He has to go to school if not Wilbur will simply skip college to make sure he gets to his class on time. He has to have the same respect of knocking before entering.
He’s yet to push that one.
Because they do respect him. They treat him as a person, not a toy or a doll to dress up, not a dog to reward and punish.
They listen and they help with his homework when he finds it difficult to pay attention to and they’re so fucking patient and kind and nice.
Tommy hates it, even if that’s the biggest lie he’s ever told.
He stays.
He doesn’t run or try to leave.
He starts trying.
He makes friends with a quiet but chaotic boy called Tubbo and his lanky and even quieter (but somehow more sarcastic) friend Ranboo. He eats three meals a day and starts to relax.
He asks about them.
Techno used to be a detective before he failed to catch the infamous Grim Reaper Killer and decided to hang up his badge and gun. He works at the local university as an English Professor.
Phil has been working at that same university for a long time. He teaches Criminology and occasionally Psychology and Sociology.
Wilbur wants to become a musician and he’s already started on his album. He wants to marry a red-head Tommy occasionally sees in the living room called Sally and absolutely despises Jared, a boy at his college that seems to do the same course as him.
Tommy settles, somewhat.
He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.
But he ignores the lingering unease and focuses on accepting his role in their family.
It’s also why he starts listening to the True Crime Podcast Wilbur suggested.
Their whole family seems to enjoy True Crime. Not that Tommy doesn’t. It’s interesting but he’s not as obsessed as his family is.
Techno has a board up of active murders in his office. Phil watches every serial killer documentary known to man. Wilbur obsessively listens to the Podcast as if he cannot function without it.
So Tommy listens. Just so he can talk to Wilbur about it.
Which is how he finds himself walking to school listening as two women discuss the Grim Reaper’s rise to infamy.
“-Richards left his house at around eight-thirty but never made it to his job. Three days later, they found his body in an alleyway, in the same state as the Reaper’s other victims.” One of the women says.
“Blood angel?” The other replies and then there’s a lot of gasps and squeals. “Jesus. The Reaper has a love for them, doesn’t he? Was there-“
“The Scythe symbol drawn in blood beside the body and the name? Yes. Alec Richards was supposedly the Butcher of the Badlands.”
“See- look- I’m not- I’m not condoning murder but didn’t the Butcher murder children? I’m not saying I agree with the Reaper but a child killer?”
There’s a laugh and a hushed agreement and Tommy finds himself nodding. Sure, murder is inherently wrong but when it’s a child murderer?
If he was murdered, he’d like the fucker to be murdered right back.
“So,” the first woman starts, papers rustling. “There are twenty confirmed kills in the UK - most being in England - and thirty more overseas, particularly America and Europe. His victims are both male and female and apart from the mutilation and torture, never any sexual assault. His victims are also always over the age of eighteen. He’s never been caught and theories suggest he could have over a hundred murders to his name.”
“Holy fuck,” the other woman whispers. “Why haven’t we covered him? Are there any leads?”
“No, but the police still search for him. Of course, you know about that poor detective that quit when he couldn’t-“
“Bring the man to justice.” There’s a pause. “Who would’ve guessed that discussing murder is so morbid!”
Tommy spots Ranboo and Tubbo, waiting for him by the school gates. He takes his earphones out.
The Grim Reaper.
He’s heard of the killer, he doubts anyone hasn’t what with his infamy.
But he didn’t know he killed that many.
It’s interesting, but as the women said, morbid. He makes a mental note to google the unidentified killer when he gets home.
“Hello, boys!” He greets his friends and promptly forgets all about the killer.