Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

*zzt*

“- since the era of Powered began, the rise of crime rates has soared. With the appearance of Heroes, and the Hero Corps, within the last couple hundred years, however, we have noticed the smaller crimes have hit their lowest numbers since two thousand an-”

*zzt*

“Janet, I can’t!”

“Yes you can, I know you have it in you. Please, you’re our only hope.”

“But I don’t have powers! I’m just… I’m just some nobody.”

“You do have powers, I know you do. You just have to believe-”

*zzt*

“So gross,” the teen muttered, sneering at the screen.

“Deku you dumbass!”

*zzt*

“-Time for the interview for the ages! For the first time in 50 years, a hero has managed to happily retire! Hello, Angel, or should I call-”

“Angel is fine, I’d rather not let my civilian name be just, out there for the world’s criminals to know.” An easy-going laugh.

“Of course, of course. It is absolutely lovely to see you doing so well. Did you think you’d ever be here? Retiring from the hero business?”

“All my old colleagues would be so jealous, if they were still alive today. I thought I would join them before I could put in the papers last week.”

The teen rolled his eyes, but dropped the remote to continue watching, if only to stare at his father.

Phil Craft. AKA The Angel. AKA one of the few older heroes in the city, and the first to be able to retire at the ripe old age of 40 - mainly due to his left wing being cut clean off during some building rescue - and single father of three.

AKA Tommy Craft’s father. On the television. Doing an interview to inflate his already god-awful ego before he fades from memory like every hero that died or managed to retire and still live past retirement.

Tommy rolled his eyes again as the interviewer continued to compliment his father.

“You don’t even look a day over 25.”

Phil laughed and waved a hand. “Oh stop it. I can feel my age, even if people don’t think I look it.” His singular wing ruffled as if for extra effect.

“Are you content with the state of the Hero Corps? You’re leaving it in worthy hands?”

“Yes. Not only with the current heroes I’ve had under my wings, or saw grow into phenomenal heroes under my old colleagues’ tutelage, but with the new heroes being accepted over the past couple months. I’m proud of my eldest son’s recent acceptance into the Corps.” The smile was full of pride, it made Tommy physically gag, his hands curled into tight fists.

It was something he never saw directed at him.

“Your son! Which one is your son? We’ve been unable to learn much about your civilian life, other than your children must be so proud of you.”

“His hero name is Technoblade. He’s always wanted to follow in my wings. I know he’ll surpass me. Who knows, maybe he’ll retire from heroing at the age of 60, like all those non-hero jobs. I wouldn’t put it past him. Once my son has a goal, he won’t stop until he completes it.”

“And your other children? Do you think they’ll join their brother?”

“I think my youngest might,” Phil shrugged with a slight, awkward chuckle, his eyes looking away now.

Tommy’s wings fluffed up and he gave a disgusted expression at the television. “Like hell I’d ever join that piece of shit corporation!” He exclaimed at the screen.

“He’s still in high school, though, so he has a bit of time to decide what he wants. He’d be a good hero, I think. When my wife was still alive, I’d see the two of them in the garden with some other injured animals one or the other would find, and nurse them back to health. He really cares for any and every kind of creature.”

And now his father was telling the world about Mum and his alone time. His wings flapped in annoyance. That wasn’t his father’s memories to share! Fuck him!

“As for my middle, I don’t think he’d want to be a hero. He never had it in him to throw a punch when I taught them all self-defense. He was much more like his mother, afterall.”

“It would be amazing to see an entire family of heroes,” the interviewer enthused. “If my history classes were right, there had been a family of Powered who were some of the first official Heroes, did you know about that?”

“Ah, yeah, I remember learning about that. It would have been really nice if all my boys could have followed me, but, we’ll just have to see, won’t we? And anyway, I’m glad at least my eldest had gotten accepted.”

“When does he start?”

“He should have started about a week ago. Remember, Technoblade is his hero name. I’m sure it’ll be as well known as mine or Daydream’s in the coming years.”

Tommy scoffed and finally shut off the television, throwing the remote across the couch and rummaging through his pockets for his phone.

[You, 2:17pm]

fuck theres NOTHING to watch r u able??

He had no need to wait long before his phone chirped like a bluejay - it had taken ages to find the perfect chirp sound that was loud enough to annoy everyone else, but also short enough to alert Tommy of his best friend messaging him - as his best friend answered.

[Tubbee, 2:18pm]

Homework. Can’t. Srry.

Tommy groaned and dropped his phone on the couch. There went his only other choice for entertainment for the day. With Tubbo busy and the stupid rule his dumb dad had that ‘homework was a solo deal’ he couldn’t even invite himself over - or invite Tubbo over, the teen never liked Tommy over at his place, something about his dad that he mumbled too much to be understood - and couldn’t call either. All the shows were dogshit, and the interview just put him in a worse mood than before.

Maybe a good fly around the neighbourhood would do him some good.

He tromped his way to the entrance of the suburban home, sliding on his beat up old shoes and grabbed his windbreaker. He’d put it on when he was in the air, even though Father Dearest would object that it was dangerous. Like he knew anything about Tommy anyway.

“I’m going out!” He called to the empty house. With Wilbur moved out, and Technoblade in the Hero dorms, and his own dad fucked off wherever he was - the interview had been some days ago, it hadn’t been new in any sense of the word - he did it more out of habit than knowing someone could hear him.

Tommy locked the door behind him before he took the skies, his reddish-orange wings brightening under the heat of the early spring sun. It was also a lot colder than he had thought, and he almost plummeted to the streets below as he fumbled for the windbreaker to get on him properly.

Once the windbreaker was on, however, Tommy swooped up higher, pushing his muscles hard to take him as close to the clouds as they could, enjoying the nice strain. He hadn’t been able to fly for days now, with classes and his dumb father’s rules when he was actually at home, and it was nice to exercise and feel the sharp cold wind practically slice at his face, only protected by the feathers around his face.

He stopped several hundred feet above the streets below and hovered, flapping his wings to keep him aloft, and looked about him. The only noise was the busy streets below him, and the sharp whistle of the wind all around him, ruffling his clothes like a parent’s caress.

For a moment he pretended he was being held by his Mum, her arms enfolding around him in a soft embrace.

Tubbo almost dropped his phone in fright as it buzzed in his hands, holding it close to his chest to try to drown out the vibrating sound, his antennae twitching, searching for a disturbance in the house coming to his room. Phones weren’t meant to be on during studying time, but Tubbo needed it for quick spelling checks or definitions. He was not leaving his room to search the entire building for a dictionary, he wasn’t braindead yet.

He sighed heavily in relief when no heavy hoof-falls came his way, and sat back in his chair to check what Tommy had messaged him.

Of course he wanted to hang out. And of course it had to be during study time. Tubbo would have rather swung the window open and take to the skies over to his best friend’s place and hang and laugh for a couple hours, damned be the risks, but…

His dad had been on edge a lot more lately. Some case he was on was getting on his nerves, and any little nuisance sent him over the edge. He still was nursing the bruise on his chest when his dad had pushed him into the wall to get him out of his way.

He wasn’t sure what his dad would do if he tried to leave, so he quickly swiped a reply to Tommy before slipping his phone into his front pocket, antennae still fidgeting around to feel any disturbance coming his way. A part of him believed it was because he was so on edge of his dad or Q checking on him that he could barely concentrate on his English homework. He was supposed to be retaking a test he had failed spectacularly on Monday, and he had the entire weekend to study, but he was more worried about his dad showing up that he could hardly read the words he was supposed to know.

Tubbo sighed, shutting his eyes and reaching up to rub his antennae, guiding them down to try to forcefully calm down. He needed to focus. If he failed the same test twice, the teacher was going to call his dad, and then…

His antennae went right back up, stiff as wooden boards. He groaned into his hands and dropped his head onto his desk. He needed to calm down or else he’d never get finished.

He took a couple large gulps of air before looking at the time, debating whether it had been enough time to grab some more water, which he had finished before he had even gotten back to his bedroom. His mouth was as dry as the desert, which gave him enough of a push to risk it. It wouldn’t take more than a minute, less if no one was in his way.

His wings buzzed in apprehension as he stood up, feeling his back crack and pop back into place, his lower arms stretching straight out and his upper arms stretching upwards.

Grabbing his empty cup, Tubbo slipped out of his room, his eyes and antennae darting around quickly, straining to know where everyone was in the house.

Sweeping below him, likely the living room. A soft, off-pitch humming came with the sweeping, low enough that only the vibrations were being picked up, to tell Tubbo Q was working.

He couldn’t hear another person, and he wondered if maybe his dad had been called into the Hero Corps for something. He really hoped so.

As light as he could be, Tubbo made his way down the stairs, slipping into the kitchen without Q even noticing him as he passed the entrance to the living room. As he had heard, the older man was working on sweeping the floor, small mounds of dust forming with his broom, and he had his earbuds in, bobbing his head along to whatever song he was listening to. If he was listening to his music, maybe that did mean his dad wasn’t home…

Tubbo hurried to the fridge, opening it as quietly as he could to not disturb the man in the next room. He grabbed the water pitcher of sugar water and poured himself a full glass and sipped it, surprised that his throat was so dry. He hadn’t lost time, had he? He was sure it had only been half an hour when he last went to grab some water in the first place.

He shook his head and put the pitcher away, but froze like a deer when the front door slammed open, cracking into the wall next to it, and his hand slipped, dropping the glass with a resounding crash.

“Shit!” He whispered loudly, barely feeling the shards that had sliced at his ankles as he jumped away from the water and glass shards.

“What the fuck was that, you stupid idiot?!” A voice roared from the front of the house, and Tubbo heard the broom fall to the ground.

“Mr. Schlatt! Ah, welcome back!” Q fumbled over his words as he hurried over to the front of the house, evidently trying to slow the charging bull. He did that a lot, and Tubbo was grateful, but he had to clean this in maybe three seconds or else Q’s attempt of slowing his dad down would be fruitless.

It was already fruitless.

“What the fuck are you doing, lazing about, huh?” His dad snarled, and several hurried footfalls stumbled over themselves. “Shouldn’t you be doing shit, or do you just want to be a dumb little bitch all your life?”

“I, I thought I’d welcome you, I just, I just finished the living-” He cut himself off with an attempted muffled groan as a body was slammed to the wall, which spurred Tubbo into action.

He picked himself off the ground, his wings buzzing louder than ever before in his ears, and he hurried to grab the nearby paper towels to wipe up the spilled sugar water, swiping at any glass pieces he could easily see, not noticing when the sharp new edges cut deeply into his hands.

“Do you have any idea how long we’ve had that damned glass?” A voice growled from the entrance of the kitchen and Tubbo yelped, clutching the shards even harder than before.

“I, I’m, I’m sorry,” he stammered, dropping back to his feet - his dad hated when he flew around the house, made him miss Tubbo’s mom a lot more, not that he knew anything about his own mom - landing on the pile of wet paper towels. Luckily he had actually picked up all the large shards. “I, m-my hand slipped. My, my fault.”

“No shit it’s your fault, dumbass,” his dad glared at him until he couldn’t stand to have his head up. “What are you doing outside of your room, Tubbo? You’re not allowed to leave until dinner’s ready.”

“I know, I just, I was really thirsty, and I was going to be really quick and get back-” Tubbo started, but shut himself off when his dad took a large step towards him.

“I don’t want to hear your stupid, childish excuses. Get back to your room right now.”

“But, but I should clean up my-”

“Now, Tubbo!” His dad shouted, and Tubbo dropped the shards at his feet, more edges cutting into his bare feet as he bolted from the kitchen, wincing as he sliced the heel of his foot in his haste.

As he bolted, he saw Q shaking against the wall, taking deep breaths as he held his head in his hands by the temples, just barely catching a glimpse of the man’s face - pale, splotchy, pinched up like he had had a really sour lemon whole - before he was up the stairs and heading for his room, shutting it as quietly as he could with his hands bloody and shaking so badly.

He wished he had a lock on his door, but that had been taken out when Tubbo had been 8. His dad always said he had nothing to hide, so he had no need for a lock. Only criminals and degenerates needed their own locked rooms.

Tubbo slid down the door, his wings buzzing in agitation, and forced himself to breathe, even if no oxygen felt like it was getting to his lungs.

He really wished he could just sneak out to visit Tommy.

…

He probably should clean off the blood, first, though.

Chapter Text

Tubbo often wondered why he tried with school. It would be a genuine miracle if he graduated at all at this point, even when he tried his hardest. Hell, even the majority of his teachers could see how he tried his hardest to do well in classes, and most weren’t horrible about it, but even they didn’t hold much hope that he’d get his diploma.

And even if he did graduate, it would likely be because of his dad’s influence. Which he did not want on his permanent record. It would be more than humiliating, it would just be another reason Tubbo would have to be grateful that his dad never just dumped his dumb ass on the side of the road in a box like he had been threatening to do since Tubbo had been about 7.

If he were to graduate, he’d want to do it on his own skills, not because Daddy Dearest threatened the school if his dumbass son failed yet another year.

He sat in front of the counsellor, a woman with sheep curly hair down her back, her room filled with supportive posters and nautical displays. Tubbo thought she was a pirate in a previous life.

“So, we’re coming to the end of the year. Why don’t you tell me how things are going, Tubbo?” She asked, her expression kind and open as always, but he saw the just-barely hidden circles under her eyes. He wasn’t the only one she saw on a daily basis, and certainly not the only case she saw that looked utterly hopeless.

He sighed and shrugged, his antennae twitching in agitation. “Do you want the truth or some beating of a bush?”

“Well, I’d appreciate honesty. That way I can best help you with what’s going on,” Miss Puffy explained kindly.

Sometimes Tubbo wished his dad were more like her. They were the same Powered types. Surely he could have been anything like her. Or, he wished she had been his mom. She wasn’t so bad.

“I don’t think I’m graduating on my own terms,” he said after a long pause.

“Why do you say that?”

“The three recent Fs from Science, English, and History.”

“I don’t think that’ll cause you to fail,” she frowned, scribbling something on her notepad she held against her knee. “All the teachers know about your situation. No one is hopeless.”

“How can you say that when the facts are right there!” Tubbo exclaimed, pointing at the nearby computer on Miss Puffy’s desk. He knew she had every student’s file on-hand in that thing.

“Tubbo,” she sighed, pity in her expression for a moment. “You’re a smart kid, I’ve seen it before, and I’m sure your teachers see it too.”

“My grades and dad see otherwise,” Tubbo mumbled, wincing when the scribbling stopped for a moment.

“Could you repeat that?” Miss Puffy asked, and Tubbo’s antennae twitched to alert while his eyes darted around, looking for the closest escape if he needed to.

“I, uh, nothing. I said nothing,” he shook his head quickly.

“If you’re sure…” She looked like she wanted to push, but didn’t. Tubbo was thankful for that.

“I’m sure, I’m sure,” Tubbo nodded sharply.

“Okay… How’s home been?”

Tubbo had his head down as he shrugged, refusing to look at the woman. “It’s been okay. Dad’s still Dad, Q has been working just the same.”

“Yeah? Nothing going on?”

Tubbo pressed his lips tightly together and shook his head. He resisted the urge to touch the bruises hidden under his shirt.

Miss Puffy looked disappointed as she nodded slowly and scratched more scribbling words onto the notepad.

The hour session was much too long, yet way too short.

The rest of the day went by in a blur, and finally it was time to head home.

Another body sidled up to him and warm feathers brushed against his thin wings.

“You up for ice cream or some shit?” Tommy asked, his bag slung over his shoulder.

I’d love to. Tubbo wanted to say, but he shook his head. “Dad has me almost grounded until school ends. He wants me to do my best in the final exams.”

“Until school ends!?” Tommy exclaimed, his wings puffing out. “But that’s not for months! I can’t be alone that long! Does your dad have any idea how mean that is?!”

Tubbo scoffed and shook his head. “This is my dad we’re talking about.”

“Right right, Mr. No-Fun-Allowed. Ugh,” Tommy groaned. “Can’t we study together, at least? That’s a lot better than shutting yourself in and studying by yourself, isn’t it?”

“I doubt he’d say yes. He’d think I was lying or something before it even happens.” And if his dad thought he was lying, he’d be in really big trouble that Q wouldn’t be able to save him from.

“Ugh, he’s so controlling…”

You have no idea. Tubbo thought as they headed out the doors of the school along the flood of other students.

“When do you have to be home?” Tommy asked.

“Right away. I told you, I’m like grounded but not,” Tubbo explained, turning to his best friend.

“But that’s totally unfair! That’s so unfair! Why can’t you just hang out with me and we can study for a bit! I can do that shit. I’m good at it, ask Jake from Calculus!”

“I’d rather not. I know, it’s stupid, but dad’s really strict about his rules.”

“That’s so unfair,” Tommy repeated. “Fine. I’m at least walking with you to your place. Your dad can’t stop me from doing that.”

Tubbo chuckled and nodded. “Sure, I’d like that, man.”

His home was about three blocks from the school, apparently it had been his mom’s decision when she had been pregnant with him. The house was directly in the middle of both the elementary school he had gone to - and first met Tommy - and the high school he was currently going to, perfect walking distances, and even better flying distances.

Tommy spoke and gesticulated the entire time they walked, lamenting over some project he was going to have to work with others he didn’t get along well with for Biology.

“They only care that I’m related to the Angel, it’s so stupid,” he vented. “I can tell they’re trying to kiss up to me like that’s gunna make my dad notice them, y’know? So stupid!”

“Yeah, so stupid,” Tubbo parroted, shaking his head as they stopped at an intersection.

Something vibrated nearby that his antennae picked up, and he snapped his head around, pulling Tommy back with him just in time for an entire person to appear in a puff of purple particles, their face half-covered in a mask over their nose and mouth, his head swivelling like an owl.

“Hey, watch it!” Tommy shouted indignantly, which caused the newcomer to look at them with wide eyes.

Tubbo was momentarily surprised by the dual coloured eyes, before noticing the guy also had split hair, black and white. Even his outfit - hero outfit, or something like that, it was definitely not something a normal civilian would wear around publicly - was split into two colours. Well, four colours. Black, white, green, and red.

It was a bit of a visual nightmare.

“Sorry! Hero business, carry on your day!” He said, jumping back to give the two space from him, and damn was he tall. He was taller than Tommy!

“Watch where you’re going, idiot!” Tommy shouted again as the hero took off down the street, where the two had been walking from. “Don’t endanger civilians!”

“Sorry! Won’t happen again!” The guy called behind him, and then he was gone with another puff of particles.

“You okay?” Tommy asked in a huff, dusting himself off. “How did you even know that was going to happen?”

Tubbo’s antennae twitched in answer, his head still turned towards the hero. He had looked a little young to be a hero, around their age. Could have been a Sidekick then, heroes were allowed to take on apprentices as young as 14 until they were 20 to become heroes on their own.

“Damn, that’s actually awesome. Thanks, by the way, we would have been on our asses if you hadn’t felt that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tubbo answered, blinking slowly before he turned back to the intersection, sighing when he noticed the walking signal already changing back to the red hand. “For fuck’s sake…”

“That sonuvabitch.” Tommy growled, glaring back at where the hero/sidekick had disappeared from. “Dumb idiot, thinking he owns the streets like every other damned hero in this place.”

Tubbo nodded with a sigh. This had been a recurring conversation for the duo, and while Tubbo agreed wholeheartedly with everything Tommy ever brought up, he never could give his own opinion, knowing how it would sound to someone else. Q had said it wasn’t safe yet.

He wondered when it would ever be safe.

The rest of the walk to Tubbo’s house luckily went without another incident, although they could hear the sounds of Powered fighting from behind them in the near distance. Tubbo was likely going to have to take one of the longer walks to school because that street was definitely going to be cordoned off with property damages and whatever else.

“You gunna be safe getting home?” He asked Tommy as they reached his driveway, hitching his backpack up with his upper set of arms.

“I’ll probably just fly home to avoid the shit,” Tommy waved a hand, his wings ruffling and settling behind his back. “Text me when you can, yeah? Your dad isn’t taking that too, right?”

“I don’t think so, but I won’t remind him if he may have forgotten,” he laughed humourlessly, one of his lower arms reaching into his pocket for his phone.

“Good. Text me when you can, then! See you tomorrow, mate!” Tommy said as he took a couple large steps back before taking to the air.

“See ya!” Tubbo called back, turning back to his home and tensed his shoulders. It was always a crapshot whether his dad was home already or not. His schedule was never consistent, which honestly, wasn’t good for Tubbo’s heart. There was no way to tell, either, from the outside.

All he could do was go inside and find out for himself, which he did.

It was deafeningly silent inside. Good news: Dad wasn’t home. Bad news: Q was also not home. Tubbo hoped Q had just gone to get groceries.

He really hoped it was just groceries.

He toed out of his shoes, set them nicely in the closet, and hurried to his room. Tossing his backpack on his bed, he looked at the time, then outside his window, where he could see the smoke from the fight. Whatever ‘hero’ or ‘villain’ had been going at it, at least one side had fire-related powers.

As if on instinct, Tubbo began moving without realizing it, grabbing one of his huge, oversized hoodies and slipping it on, as well as swiping a facemask hidden in his desk drawers. It had used to be part of a dumb halloween costume from years back that actually served a purpose now.

With a quick sensation check nearby, and getting nothing back, Tubbo pulled the sweater over him, careful of his wings as they fit into the handmade slits - for a store apparently meant for physical Powereds, they really didn’t have anything for flying insect body types - and fit the mask over his nose and mouth. He quickly unlatched the window, sticking a decently sized paperweight rock on the corner, and hopped out, hovering in the air to mostly shut the window. He had to ensure the rock was in place, keeping the window open enough for his fingers to slip through. Once everything was secure, Tubbo took to the skies, flying high, high up to lose anyone who could have possibly been looking his way, before diving back down towards the damaged streets just a few blocks from his home.

There were civilians to check on that the heroes would never bother with.

Chapter Text

Ranboo popped over to the corner of the street to keep his distance from the fight, and to keep an eye on any civilian that may need to be moved. It had been a rule compromised between himself and his mentor, Daydream, within the first week of getting picked by him. Ranboo wasn’t much of a fighter - which was why he applied to be Daydream’s sidekick specifically - but he was quick on his feet, and had a really good handle on his Powers.

The rest of the team was fighting the villain. He wasn’t too sure what Powered the villain was, but it was pretty low to attack in a residential area. There could be kids in some of the nearby houses! Like the teens he had almost crashed into!

Ranboo internally winced as he remembered how angry the blond had been. He hadn’t realized people would be at the corner of the street at just that time, and was very glad that brunet had somehow known he was popping by and pulled himself and his friend back before they had all crashed into one another. Apparently, he had forgotten it was a school day.

A line of fire erupted into the sky as Pyre tried to block one of the streets so the villain couldn’t scamper away, and Ranboo’s eyes went wide. He popped to a fence, balancing like a cat - he thanked his time taking gymnastics in his youth, playing on the tightrope so much it was easy to hook his thin shoes on either side of the fence to keep himself upright - and strained his neck to see what the fire was on, worriedly looking for any civilians or cars that might be too close to the heat. He trusted Pyre to not do anything too destructive if he could help it.

The wall of fire was just a couple houses from the street intersection, which was good, Ranboo supposed, before a scream caught his ears and he saw the fire had spread too quickly to the houses on either side of the street.

He hadn't even gotten to pop over when an explosion caused him to tumble off the fence he stood on. A car had been too close! Crap, crap, crap, that wasn’t good. He hoped one of the houses had called the fire department. And the insurance agencies…

“Help!” An older woman’s voice pierced the sounds of fighting, and Ranboo scrambled to his feet, popping a couple feet ahead to the side of the street, looking for the voice frantically. A civilian needed aid, and he was going to help however he could!

He saw one of the houses, the house with the exploded car in the driveway, going up in flames, and some of the civilians from the home running out. Two taller, older looking adults were holding back a young woman from returning inside, voicing overlapping until it was mush in Ranboo’s ears, but he understood enough.

Someone was trapped inside.

He sprinted over, hailing the civilians down as he approached. “Who’s still inside?”

“Our granny! She’s in her room, on the ground floor, but it’s all lit up!” One of the adults said in a rush, coughing into his sleeve. “She can walk, but not through that. You’re a hero, aren’t you? Save her!”

“Yeah, yeah, of course!” Ranboo nodded fast enough his hair flopped into his face and he hurried to the front door, wincing at the heat of the fire.

He would have to pop in where he could see a safe-ish looking spot, and then go in blind. Popping in blind was practically a death sentence, he had cut a finger off from a time he had popped too close to a wall, and his pinky finger had been in the wall. He had to be careful not to cut himself in half because he didn’t know what he was teleporting to exactly.

Shaking his head, Ranboo popped into the burning building thankful for his mask over his mouth and nose, but instantly wishing he had some goggles to protect his eyes from the smoke. He winced away and squinted as his eyes blurred with tears. However, he couldn’t give himself much time to waste, he had an older woman to save, and he could hear stumbling through the crackling flames.

“Ma’am! Can you hear me?” He called loudly, cupping his hands over his masked mouth.

A muffled shout was heard nearby and Ranboo followed it quickly until he reached a partially open door, and saw movement inside the room.

“Ma’am, I’m here to help! Don’t be alarmed!” He shouted as he popped the couple feet forward, past the door, and was relieved that nothing was on the other side of the door.

The woman was sagged against the wall near the partially opened window, hands shakily waving at it.

“I was, I was trying…” She coughed harshly and slid down the wall some more, before Ranboo hurried to her side and wrapped one of her arms around his shoulders.

“It’s okay. I’ll get you out of here, no problemo!” He spoke quickly, scanning around. The window was only partially open, probably a good tug or two would open it completely, or they could try for the front or back door.

Did they have time for a tug or two, however? He couldn’t teleport with people, not yet. Not that he ever tried, but he knew it was possible but ill-advised in such a situation. Who knew what would happen to the woman if he wasn’t exact? He could kill her without even meaning to, and then where would he be?

“Wi-window. I can’t… Hard to… walk,” the woman wheezed, her body sagging heavily against Ranboo, and that was all the action needed for him to hurry to the window and pull up with all his might.

The fire continued to spread, the heat uncomfortable against their backs, and the smoke made it harder and harder to see inside the room clearly. Even harder to breathe, as well, even with the mask on.

“Incoming!” A shout from outside warned them just before glass shattered. The entire window, both panes, had been shattered by two fists, both being rubbed by another set of hands as a person cursed under their breath.

The burst of fresh air was beautiful to Ranboo in the moment, and he looked outside to see a short figure hovering a couple feet off the ground, a baggy sweater over their body, hood up, and a funny looking mask over the lower half of their face. All Ranboo could see were light irises glaring at him.

“Help me get her out, numbnuts!” The hovering figure shouted, four arms outstretched towards the woman.

Ranboo snapped to attention and hurriedly helped the older woman out with the help of the hovering figure, wondering who they could be. No other hero had been called to the scene, and he certainly didn’t know many with insect-like gossamer wings, though the figure really looked familiar… He hadn’t met them before, had he?

Once the woman was safely on the grass, the hovering figure dropped down, two hands out to allow her to stay standing as she wobbled, before he snapped his head in Ranboo’s direction with a look of such pure hatred, it was a little shocking.

“Of all the teams, they had to send the fucking dream team, pretentious fucking…” He grumbled, jerking his head back to the woman and helping her away from the house, leaving Ranboo still inside the burning building.

Well, only for a second more, before he quickly popped out and hurried after them.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” He demanded, taking the woman’s other arm and wrapping it around his shoulders to help her walk better. She was a tall older woman, not as tall as him, but still, it was good for her to walk without practically crouching. “There’s an active villain in the area!”

“And your so-called-hero just set some houses on fire! What do you think I’m doing here?!” The figure hurled back, a slight buzz could be heard in the air around him as the wings almost seemed to vibrate. “There’s people in danger, and the heroes aren’t going to give two shits about them!”

“No squabbling like little brats,” the woman ordered, pulling her arms from both of them and walking with purpose towards her family, who were quick to embrace her fully, checking over her frantically. The fresh air certainly did her good. “Now, thank you both, I would have been toast if you hadn’t come in just then, either one of you. What’s your names?”

“Enderian,” Ranboo said, pride in his voice at the name he chose. It had been the name of some creatures in one of his favourite old fairytales. Like him, they too could teleport around, and were very rarely seen by people, except for a select few who were ‘worthy’ whatever that really meant. It differed from story to story, but it was always someone who was worthy who got to meet the Enderian creatures.

“Doesn’t matter,” the figure waved a hand quickly.

“Oh, I must know both my hero’s names. Come on, boy, don’t be a buzzkill here,” the woman said.

“Uh, call me Buzzkill then. I’m not really into giving my name,” the figure seemed to flinch at being called a hero, and Ranboo frowned under his mask, furrowing his brow at the smaller person.

“Fine. Thank you anyway. The both of you.”

“Of course, ma’am, all in a day’s work,” Ranboo puffed his chest out proudly.

He didn’t miss the scoff from Mr Buzzkill over there, and it knocked some of the bravado out of his sails.

“Don’t mention it,” he responded. “I should… ah fuck.”

He had taken a couple steps back when they all heard the Dream Team head their way, calling for Ranboo.

“Enderian, what are you doing here? We said we needed you at the other intersection!” Pyre exclaimed. “What if that villain had managed to run past us and escaped through that street, huh?”

“Oh, sorry, sorry, Pyre, I just…”

“He saved me, young man. No thanks to your flames, I should say,” the woman boldly came forward. “You really should be more careful. Don’t you know how dangerous Fire Powereds are?”

The Dream Team all looked surprised by the woman’s words, before they turned to Buzzkill, who laughed loudly at the situation, slapping a hand over his masked mouth.

“Uh, gotta go!” He said and took off before anyone could say anything.

Chapter Text

Tubbo tried very hard to get up into the clouds to escape from the freaking Dream Team, but of course Daydream had something to say about his attempted flee.

“Wh-hey! Get back here!” He shouted, and Tubbo made the awful decision to look down and behind him to see a bright green and white falcon chase after him.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Tubbo muttered, begging his wings to work faster, and he dodged at the very last second to feel talons graze his hoodie. Gods bless his antennae.

“Stop right there or I’ll use force!” Daydream warned, and it was always so weird seeing a small creature speak with human words. His Powers were seriously freaky, even if it was also the coolest Tubbo had ever heard of before. “You were attempting to flee a crime scene!”

“No, I was leaving because I did what I set out to do. Which was to make sure you heroes didn’t kill innocents like you always do!” Tubbo argued back, hovering high in the air, but kept his distance from the falcon. “You were going to be totally willing to let those houses blaze down and kill whoever was inside just to get your mark, right?”

“Don’t assume you know anything about us, insect.” The venom in Daydream’s voice sounded so similar to Tubbo’s Dad’s and he had to focus on where he currently was. “The villain was dangerous and we needed to use force.”

“Keep telling yourselves that. Bet that makes you sleep well at night, huh? Putting all the blood on your hands on the people you fight.” It felt good to let it out. All the vitriol he had against his dad, against all the heroes he knew their true natures. There was no such thing as a good hero. Hadn’t been for centuries. His dad was the best example. “But you know the truth, as well as I.”

The falcon shrieked and swooped at him, and Tubbo took off quickly, snapping his wings into double-time. If he could just reach that cloud… He could hide in there until Daydream got tired of searching…

He hoped Daydream would get tired of searching for him.

“Get away from me!”

“You’ve obstructed the authority, and I will have you detained, little bastard,” Daydream swore, in much the same tone as his dad, and a large shiver almost had his wings stop at the worst moment. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I really do. I know more about the nature of heroes than any other civilian,” he muttered, shutting his eyes to tell where Daydream was before dropping in time to miss the talons again. He snapped his wings open again and took off into the cloud they had been flying to.

He knew he had about an hour before his wings would get too tired to keep going, along with how cold it was up there in the cloud, and the freezing water. But he only needed less than an hour, if Daydream gave up the chase. In the cloud, he could rely on his antennae for movement, and keep as far away from the hero as he possibly could.

It was only half an hour before he heard Daydream curse. “Damned brat.” And then dead silence. Only the wind. Not even vibrations of a nearby moving creature besides Tubbo himself.

He waited another ten minutes before he left the cloud, and hurriedly dropped out of the sky towards his backyard, snapping his wings to slow the fall as he reached the ground, and he sunk to his knees, breathing heavily and yanking the mask off his face.

“Tubbo? Tubbo, where are you?” He heard inside the house, and relaxed once he realized it was only Q.

“Outside, Big Q,” he called, pulling his hoodie off and sitting on it, tucking the mask into the pouch as he leaned against the tree in the yard.

“Oh, thank the… I was so worried!” Q hurried out, pulling his beanie further down his head like a nervous habit. “I heard about this attack just a couple blocks away, and then the fire! You hadn’t been near that, have you?”

“I’m fine, I’ve been here since school ended,” Tubbo lied easily and waved a hand.

Q sighed in relief, and he smiled. “Good. Your dad would be very upset if anything happened to you.”

Tubbo flinched at that, and Q backpedaled.

“I would be extremely upset! So upset, so worried,” he babbled, enough to cause Tubbo to chuckle quietly at him. “Sorry, sorry. Force of habit, yeah?”

“It’s okay, Q. I know what you were trying for. What did you do today?”

“Ah! Cleaned the kitchen, went shopping. I have the groceries in the kitchen, think you could help me put them all away, kiddo?”

Tubbo sighed for dramatic effect before he got up with a heavy grunt. “Sure thing, Big Q. Always happy to help you.”

Ranboo had looked up to Daydream ever since the hero had gotten in the spotlight. An unusual Powered, the ability to transform entirely into other creatures, including other humans, yet he was such a force of good. He saved people from so many disasters, protected the city with the other big dogs, yet never forgot about his roots. He loved to talk about his family to the other heroes - and when Ranboo got added to the Dream Team as a Sidekick, he got to hear these stories too - and he was fun to be around when not working on defeating a villain.

It was rare for the hero to return empty-handed, and yet, when all those on the ground heard the heavy flaps and fabric approach, they witnessed the Daydream return to them without Buzzkill in hand. Of all the Powereds to manage that, Ranboo had never expected someone with insect wings to be one of them.

“What happened up there?” He asked carefully as his Hero transformed back into his hero body.

“Hid in the clouds like the coward he is,” Daydream scoffed, his circular mask covering any facial expression. It was said early in his career, Daydream had gotten badly attacked by a dangerous villain, and needed to wear a simple circular mask with a silly smiley face to not scare kids he would save later on. Ranboo wanted to believe he was frowning under the mask, and for a brief second, wondered what his Hero’s face looked like now.

“And you didn’t wait until he got tired?” Pyre asked with a cocky smirk, nudging Daydream with an elbow.

In the time Buzzkill and Daydream had taken off, Pyre had stopped the fires from spreading even further. However, the damage had already been done. Only the two houses that had been initially hit had been burned, cars were little more than warped metal, and the road and driveways were scorched and charred. From what Ranboo could see, though, no one had gotten hurt. Families and neighbours were finally leaving their houses to check on each other, or to gawk at the heroes, or at the villain that was being taken away by 404.

“Oh shut up, man. He took advantage I was already a little tired from the fight with the villain,” Daydream brushed the other Hero off, heading away from the house back down the street where their transportation was. It looked like the older woman wanted to say something, but couldn’t as the heroes left without another word, and she shook her head with a grumble about ‘high-and-mighty heroes’ that Ranboo just barely heard before he had to hurry after his Heroes.

“Why were you trying to get him, anyway?” Ranboo asked once he reached them.

“He could have been another villain, working with the one we just caught. Why else would he have run off like that?”

“I don’t think he was working for anyone. He just helped me get that civilian out faster,” he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to defend Buzzkill. After all, he had been a bit of an asshole the entire time Ranboo had been with him. “Maybe he was a concerned neighbour?”

“Then why would he run away?” Daydream shot back, a little too sharply than he was used to hearing the hero sound, and it caused him to step back in surprise. “Never trust someone who runs from a crime scene. Remember that next time, Enderian.”

Ranboo nodded quickly. “Yes, sir!”

Daydream sighed and shook his head. “That was assholey, sorry. You’re still learning. Not your fault for not knowing that,” he turned back to face Ranboo, looking up at him - Ranboo had always been taller than most people since his last growth spurt, and it was always weird that the people he figuratively looked up to have to literally look up to face him - and he put a hand heavily on his shoulder. “You did good, Ranboo. Just be more wary of non-heroes meddling in Hero business, okay?”

“Of course, yeah! Yeah, yeah, sure,” he nodded quickly, his hair falling in his face.

“Good. Let’s head back to base. 404 should be back there by the time we get there,” Daydream said, turning away and heading to the open doors to the car, where Pyre was sitting in the driver’s seat.

Ranboo nodded again, and the two got in the car, and they were heading out of the residential area within seconds of buckling up.

Chapter Text

“-have told us to announce a new person of interest among the heroes. Since the nasty villain attacked the residential area just one week ago, rumours have gone around about a young masked insect Powered interfering in Heroes work, undermining efforts to protect the people of L’Manburg. If anyone has any information about this Powered individual, please contact your local Hero Corps number below.”

Tommy frowned at the screen, and cast a glance at his dad who was watching with him.

“Strange, that. Don’t you think, Tom?” Phil commented lightly, looking at him from the corner of his eye, as if Tommy wasn’t worthy of a head turn.

Tommy scoffed and wrenched his eyes back to the television. “What’s strange?”

“Not many insect Powereds in the city, least of all near the school where that first appearance occurred. You don’t think it could be-”

“Fuck no!” Tommy shook his head, turning his whole body to face his father, who turned elegantly to face him in return with a raised eyebrow, practically prodding him to dare continue. “You and I both know Tubbo. He wouldn’t do something like this Buzzkill is doing. And anyway, his dad has him grounded. I don't think Tubbo would risk getting in more trouble like that. There’s no way. It’s not like they know what kind of insect Powered Buzzkill is. What the fuck are you even implying here, anyway, huh?”

“Geez, mate, I was just speculating,” Phil raised his hands in mock surrender, and Tommy had to squeeze his hands into fists in his lap to not swing them around wildly. “It was a conversation starter. Sorry, didn’t know you’d be so explosive over it.”

Tommy detected sarcasm, and his blood boiled. “No, if that was a conversation starter, that was a fucking shitty thing to talk about. Tubbo’s my best mate. How’d you like it if I speculated fucking Technoblade for breaking laws, huh?”

“Hey, that’s too far,” Phil dropped his hands and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t talk about your brother that way.”

“Don’t talk about my best friend that way, and I won’t have to!”

“What’s wrong with you? I was just trying to have a talk with my son, and you’re ready to fight me?”

Tommy scoffed and got up from the couch. “I wonder. When was the last time you tried talking to me, again? I don’t think it was since you lost that wing.” His own wings shuffled behind his back, fluffed up, and he saw how Phil’s singular wing fluffed up in defense.

“What’s that’s supposed to mea-” He tried to counter, but Tommy’s phone went off. “Don’t you answer that, we’re talking here.”

Tommy ignored his dad to check at least who was calling, to decide if he would entertain him or not, and saw it was Wilbur.

“It’s Wilbur,” he said, answering the phone in front of his dad with far more cheer in his voice than before. “Hey, Wilby! What’s up?”

“Hey! Tommy!” His brother said over the line enthusiastically. “How’ve you been? Dad’s not driving you up the wall with the end of the year coming ever closer?”

“Nothing much, nothing much. Eh, kinda, you know how he is. Bossy as ever,” Tommy made direct eye-contact with his father as he spoke, wanting him to know exactly who he was talking about.

“Give me that phone now or you’re grounded,” Phil ordered, standing up, practically looming over him despite being almost the same height now. The wing helped with the height, huge fucking black wing fluffed up to look intimidating and shit.

“Ugh, can’t I even talk to my own brother in peace?” Tommy groaned, barely resisting as Phil took the phone from him to put it to his own ear. “Hey! That’s fucking mine!”

“It’s under my name, so it’s mine actually,” Phil retorted, raising his free hand to stop Tommy from taking it back. “Wilbur, you never got back to me about dinner this weekend. We’re celebrating Steven’s first big break in the hero world, you know.”

He was silent as Wilbur spoke and Tommy fumed silently. He tapped his foot impatiently and rolled his eyes. Couldn’t he have done this at a different time?

“Yes, but I want us as a family to celebrate. We did it when I got my first big break. It was a whole family celebration. I haven’t seen my granddaughter since she was born,” Phil almost sounded like he was whining, laying it on thick over the phone.

If he wanted to see her, he could just go visit like a normal fucking person. Tommy thought with another eyeroll.

“Atta boy, Wilbur. Yes, it’s this weekend, we’ll meet here at my place and we’ll all go to the restaurant. Yes, come for about 5pm. The reservation is-Well, of course I made a reservation, it’s a popular restaurant. That’s why I kept calling you for the past couple days. Yes, it’s child-friendly, I checked, of course I fucking checked, son.”

“Give me my phone back, old man!” Tommy pushed, but his dad used his wing as a divide. “Come on, Dad! Give it back!”

“Thank you, Wilbur. I can’t wait to see you guys. Yes, yes, I’ll give the phone back to your brother. I love you.”

There was a long pause before Phil finally gave the phone back to Tommy, his expression tired all of a sudden. Not that he cared too much, he just snatched his phone back and turned away from his dad as he put the speaker to his ear again.

“I’m back, Wilby.”

“Hey, Tommy,” Wilbur sounded tired. It had always been like that when Wilbur spoke to their dad since their brother applied for the Hero Corps several months ago.

“Hang on, I’m going to my room so we won’t be interrupted again,” Tommy glared at his dad before storming over to the stairs and jumping several steps to the next floor to his room. “What did you wanna talk about?”

“I wanted to check in, you know, all that brotherly crap,” there was a weak chuckle over the line. “It’s been a while we chatted. Sorry about that, by the way. Work got hectic, and Sally wouldn’t let me do anything but rest and eat when I got back from work. I barely got to play with Fundy because I’m asleep when she’s awake, and she’s asleep when I’m awake and still home.”

Tommy nodded as his brother bemoaned the trials of being a working father.

“Well, you’re trying, which is better than I can say dad did,” he offered.

Wilbur sighed. “I guess. I just hate how little I get to see my girls, you know?”

“Not really, but I can fucking imagine,” Tommy rolled his eyes with a small smile, flopping on his stomach on his bed.

“Right, right. Anyways, how’s my baby brother doing? How’s Tubzo?”

“Good, I guess. Tubbo’s been fucking grounded by his old man until like, the end of the school year. I barely see him outside of school. It fucking sucks!”

“Why’s he been grounded?”

“Well, not really grounded, but he’s supposed to go straight home and study all the time for end-of-year exams or some bullshit. I can’t even go over to his place to study because his dad won’t let him have ‘any fucking distractions’ for fuck’s sake.”

“Damn, that really sucks. Sorry to hear that, man.”

“Thanks. I was hoping after a week or something, he’d let up, but Tubbo’s dad is so strict, it’s so unfair.”

“Yeah, Schlatt’s always been a hard-ass. Dad’s said that a lot when we were younger. I remember he’d used to wonder why he never lightened up when Tubbo was born. Then again, that was before Addie left.”

“Ugh.”

“Right, right. What do you wanna talk about then?” Wilbur asked.

Tubbo had never meant to continue the stupid thing. Really, truly, he never meant to keep doing it. Going out in an extra-large hoodie that covered a good 80% of his distinguishing features, in a mask to protect his face, under an alias as dumb as Buzzkill helping people in need in the nearby area.

But something in his nature felt a buzz of pleasure any time he helped someone in need. Heroes cared so little for the civilians with average grievances, where they were being fucked over, and he did his best to help them out. Flying an elderly over traffic to reach their car across the street. Yanking some poor soul out of the way of something dangerous flying straight for them. Being the first person to help someone out of a building in an evacuation, long before any hero even shows up.

Of course, in the past week since the run-in with the Dream Team, there had been close calls. Times he saw and heard those familiar hoof-beats, and those were the only times he booked it out of there without a quick check-in on the civilian he was trying to help. He could handle practically any hero, but the thought of going against his own father had him dumbstruck with fear. Tubbo knew his father held back on him and Q. He also knew his father never held back to those who were considered a threat.

Luckily, most of the other heroes that tried to stop him had no flying ability, or anti-flying ability, so escaping them was surprisingly easy. He counted his blessings he hadn’t run into the Dream Team since the first time he left home to help his neighbours.

He knew he was going to end up wanted, but so far, no one seemed to make the connection Tubbo Schlatt was Buzzkill. Apparently they couldn’t even figure out what insect he was.

Tubbo wasn’t sure if he should be happy about that, or offended. Exactly how many insect Powered lived in the city? How many insects had gossamer wings, without some casing protecting them? It wasn’t like he could hide them, not if he wanted to be able to fly.

He sighed as he slipped into his room, silently shutting the window behind him. He checked for where Q was - he had seen his dad going towards the Headquarters for Hero Corps when he had been making his way back - and relaxed once he felt the vibrations of something heating up. Supper.

Yanking the hoodie up and off, Tubbo did a quick, general check over himself for any injuries that could have occurred while in the middle of adrenaline. Some bruises to his chest, but nothing he wasn’t used to dealing with. At least these bruises were smaller. The kid he had been helping out of the apartment had very bony elbows, and had been a little too hysterical to go limp until he had been back on the floor, his poor mother wailing in relief as she engulfed both him and Tubbo in a tight embrace, thanking him profusely. It had taken some persistent pushing to get out of the hug, pulling his hood so far over his face he couldn’t even see before he took off straight up. He had no desire to see any heroes this time, and he heard many of them arriving to stop the fire and help the civilians.

He was just about to grab his backpack when his phone vibrated in his pockets. He frowned, and pulled it out to check what Tommy could want at a time like this, only to freeze, not recognizing the number.

[Unknown Number, 5:03pm]

Would I be correct in assuming this is the popular vigilante Buzzkill? There are only so many flying Insect Powereds in this city, afterall. Especially ones who have knowledge of the heroes of this fair city.

Tubbo felt his chest seize. How could someone figure it was him, much less find his own cell phone number?! He barely gave it away! He shakily typed an answer, his antennae stiff and still.

[You, 5:03pm]

Who is this?

[Unknown Number, 5:04pm]

I won’t turn you over to the heroes. You may call me Mr. President, as ridiculous as the name is. Then again, Buzzkill is pretty silly, now isn’t it?

[You, 5:05pm]

What do you want?

[Unknown Number, 5:08pm]

An opportunity. Of course, not in our civilian attire, that would be unwise to both of us. But, I will admit, I have heard how the media represents you, yet I have also seen first-hand what you do to the people in your neighbourhood and beyond. You are a hero without all the paperwork attached. And I want to prove to the city the corruption our so-called heroes have become. You help the people. The heroes now help themselves or the 1% I want to change things for the better.

[Unknown Number, 5:09pm]

If you are willing, we may meet in L’Park’s north side. It’s typically well secluded for both our safety. Say, 5pm next Monday?

[You, 5:10pm]

Idk… How do I know you’ll keep your word?

Tubbo bit his lip, waiting for the answer.

[Unknown Number, 5:12pm]

That’s the thing about trust. You just have to trust me to keep my word. But you’re a good kid, Buzzkill. I want this city to be safe, just as you do. We can discuss more in-person. But only if you are willing. I won’t force you into anything. This is your choice.

Tubbo waited for more, but after a good five minutes, he had a feeling the conversation was over, and he let out a deep breath, tense. Could he trust this random number that apparently knew he was Buzzkill? What if he refused? Or said the wrong thing? Would this Mr. President out him? Turn him in? What if this was a trick by the heroes? What if they were doing this to every bug Powered citizen to trick him into turning himself in? Would they do that? Would they be smart enough to do that?

The questions swirled in Tubbo’s head, and it was beginning to give him a headache. He had time to really think about it. Monday was still another week away. Until then, he could push it away and focus on the English assignment he had due tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Tommy wished he could have gotten Tubbo to keep him sane for the dinner, but no dice. He even tried calling Tubbo’s dad, and he said Tubbo wouldn’t be able to hang out or anything until either his grades got better, or he had no more exams for the year.

So. Fucking. Unfair.

At least Wilbur would make things interesting. Or keep him mildly entertained. Or he could be a terrible influence to his baby nibling. He wondered what kind of trouble he could include a baby in. Arson would be fun. Or a food fight.

He visualized the food fight in his head as he and Phil waited for the rest of the family to make it to the house. Technoblade was getting changed out of his hero outfit at his place, and was supposed to be there any minute now, and Sally had texted Phil saying they’d be there in ten minutes. They had no other family in the city, and apparently on Technoblade’s request, they wouldn’t ask anyone else outside of the immediate family to celebrate - though Phil certainly tried to persuade him to invite his grandparents or some of the extended family, like what he had done back in the day - which, honestly, was the only good thing out of the night Technoblade had requested. Tommy had a feeling no one other than Phil enjoyed the extended family.

Which was saying something if Wilbur didn’t like somebody in their family that they all knew about with a single glance.

Tommy decided to bide his time with preening his wings, carefully running his hands through the feathers to straighten the bent ones, or to pull out the loose ones. It was a time-consuming activity, and it took his entire attention until finally the doorbell rang, and he had to plaster his Everything-Is-Great face.

His brother entered, his pink hair pulled in a low ponytail to keep out of his face and his glasses glinting off the light of the hallway, covering his eyes. He smiled slowly at their dad and they shared a hug.

“Hey, mate. How are you?” Phil asked happily.

Tommy had hoped Wilbur and his wife would get there fast.

“Good, dad. I almost had to cancel because a case came up in the area needing attention. I guess they needed someone with more experience, in the end, but I almost took it,” Technoblade shrugged, his tone monotone despite the words he spoke.

“So we would have gotten together for nothing? Damn,” Tommy muttered, focusing on his feathers again. “I almost wish you took whatever fucking case it was.”

Both his dad and Technoblade didn’t hear him, or simply ignored the jab. They talked shop, how the hero dorms were, if he made any friends, any rivals, heard about the new possible villain. It was the most animated Phil had been since Technoblade had moved out a month ago. It hurt that he was only ever animated for Technoblade, and not for him, or even Wilbur. Words meant nothing when his actions spoke the truth.

He always loved Technoblade more than he cared for Wilbur or Tommy.

The doorbell rang after another couple minutes, and this time Tommy was the one to answer, happy to escape the two talking about the god-awful hero quotas like it was simple paperwork.

“Wilbur!” He crowed with a little forced happiness in his words. “Finally, I thought I was gunna be stuck with those two for the entire night!”

“I wasn’t about to leave you trapped with them, Tommy my boy,” Wilbur engulfed him in a hug, and Tommy’s wings encircled him, accidentally separating him from Sally and the little bundle in her arms that squirmed and giggled.

“Right, how’s my favourite sister-in-law and baby niece!” He pulled away quickly to grin widely at the other two at the door. "Sally, your hair is red as blood! Did you dye it again? And Fundy! Look at you! Shit, you’re getting big! Are you a heavy girl? I bet you are.”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” Sally giggled and handed the baby carefully to Tommy, who immediately held his little niece protectively, terrified he’d drop her. “Yeah, just like that, prop up the butt and the head, and, there we go.”

“That’s so fucking cute,” Wilbur muttered with a stupid grin on his face.

Tommy looked down at his nibling. She was about ten months old, and already had the same vibrant red hair of her mother’s, but as her huge-ass eyes stared up at him, he saw the familiar brown of his brother’s. The only nice quality of his brother that he could have possibly passed on to his off-spring.

Only after a couple minutes of holding her, Tommy felt himself panic as his hands got warm and sweaty, and he looked to the parents desperately. “Wait, wait, someone take her, I don’t want to drop her, oh Prime, what if I drop my own niece!”

“Okay, okay, give her here. Chill, man,” Wilbur said, scooping Fundy out of Tommy’s arms with ease and he laughed at Tommy’s panic. “See? You didn’t drop her. You did good.”

“That’s so scary though, she’s so… fucking small!” Tommy said in awe. “Were we always that small?”

“Yes, for the most part,” Sally said. “Now, are we leaving right away, or can we go in for a bit?”

“Oh, shit, right, yeah, come in! Dad and Steven are in the living room,” Tommy stepped back to let the new little family in the house. “Dad! Wilbur and Sally are here!”

“Wil!” Phil called, and only a few seconds later he appeared from the living room. “Hey, son! You look good. And Sally, lovely as always.”

Sally smiled, but there was a strain around the corners. One of the reasons Tommy liked Sally was because she saw the truth about Phil like they could, not the Angel everyone else assumed he was. Maybe that had been one of the reasons Wilbur proposed to her and not to any of his exes.

“Hi, Phil. Hope you’ve been good these past months.”

“Ah, same old, same old. And is that my granddaughter I spy?” He cooed, wiggling his fingers at the baby. “She’s as gorgeous as her parents, I see.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Are we going now or what?” Wilbur interrupted as Technoblade stepped out of the living room. “When’s the reservation?”

“In half an hour. We should get going now. One car or two?” Phil questioned.

“Two. I don’t want to go through the trials of getting Fundy’s carseat out of ours and into yours, only to then do the same thing when we finish.” Sally said, casting a glance at her husband.

“Ah, that’s fair. So, three-three? You three in your car, me, Tommy, and Steven in ours?”

Tommy slouched.

It was gunna be a long fucking night.

Tommy snapped his mouth shut, and squeezed his eyes closed, regretting actually saying those words aloud as they were around the two cars at the end of the night. It was as if he had stolen the sound of the world by uttering those words.

Sally looked pale, turning her body to hide Fundy’s sleeping form, and stepping away from the Craft men. Wilbur looked surprised, his eyebrows raised, but he made no move or made a sound.

Phil and Technoblade? Steadily growing more indignant and livid.

“You think it’s just a joke, huh? Like we aren’t risking our lives out there?” Technoblade questioned, his voice deadly low and threatening.

Tommy’s wings puffed up, lifting up to make himself bigger than he was.

“How could you even say that? After everything I’ve done,” Phil said, genuinely hurt, and that was what snapped Tommy out of his fear.

“All you’ve done? For who? The city or your own kids?” He rounded on his father. “What have you done, exactly? Given us shelter, food, an education? Guess what? That’s not worthy of a medal. That’s the bare necessities everyone needs. So tell me, what have you done for us, and not just for Technoblade?”

Now he looked properly scandalized, and he spluttered. “I have done nothing but give you boys a good life! Sure, I haven’t always been there because of work, but that is not my fault. I can’t be everywhere at once, I’m just one man, I’m just a single father!”

“Everywhere? I just needed you here sometimes, and you couldn’t even do that!” Tommy knew he should have shut his damn mouth, but now that the cat was loose, he couldn’t catch it so quickly. “No, it was always Steven this, Technoblade that. So wrapped up that finally your favourite son was taking after you and becoming a hero, you hardly cared when Fundy was born, when I broke my wrist last year! Do you even know how I broke my wrist?”

“Doing something stupid, you’re a teenager, aren’t you?” Phil looked incredulous and livid.

“I was trying to get your fucking attention and slipped down the stairs of our own fucking house. You didn’t even take me to the hospital! And you were home! I flew to the hospital myself and you got called and then you finally showed up!”

Even though it was a horrible idea, it felt so good to let it out.

“Tommy if you don’t stand down, I’ll be forced to detain you,” Technoblade stepped between their dad and him, which caused Tommy to step back in shock.

“De-detain me? What the fuck?!” He shouted, taking another step back to keep out of reach of his older brother. “For fucking what?! Yelling? That’s hardly a fucking reason to detain someone!”

“For public indecency,” he stated matter-of-fact.

Tommy’s wings fluffed up angrily, before Fundy started to cry loudly. The tension was cut in half, and Tommy had had enough.

“Fuck this. I’m going home. Without any of you,” he snapped, his wings beating hard and in seconds he was in the air. “Fuck you, and fuck off.”

He took to the skies as his father and brother yelled at him to return, somewhat drowning out the wailing baby beside them. Tommy did feel bad about causing her to cry, but he was not going to apologize right away. He’d say sorry to Sally and Wilbur later. He just needed to get the fuck out of there.

Although he was heading home, he was regretting when the rest of them got back as well. That was, if Wilbur and Sally were going back to the house or if they were getting the hell out of dodge while they could to keep Fundy out of the way of the upcoming fight. Phil was coming back, that was obvious. Technoblade was likely coming back. Maybe he’d lock the door and go to sleep right away. Put on music so loud he’d be able to drown out the next day as well.

He wasn’t looking forward to confronting either of them. But actions have consequences, and he was going to hear it when he finally would face his father or brother again.

Chapter Text

Ranboo sighed in his mask, popping from rooftop to rooftop of the perimeter he was meant to patrol. It was getting late, the sun low in the sky, and the streets under him weren’t as populous as they had been half an hour ago. He was used to this. It was a Sunday evening, and the area was close to the residential zone.

He flicked his gaze to the sky, wondering if he would be so lucky to catch the new little ‘pest’ as Daydream often spat about. He really had never seen his Hero be so mad at someone helping the people when the heroes couldn’t get there faster. Wasn’t it a good thing people are helping each other? Shouldn’t it be encouraged to help one another so the heroes weren’t overworked?

Ranboo grimaced as he remembered saying as much to the Dream Team, and getting dead air as a response. 404 had shrugged, his expression difficult to figure out. Pyre had frowned, as if he hadn’t ever thought about it that way, and looked to be about to nod when Daydream spoke up.

“If civilians tried to act like heroes, they would end up causing more harm than good. Why do you think heroes are trained and registered by the city? If anyone could do our job, we wouldn’t even have jobs to begin with.”

“I wasn’t…” Ranboo tried to protest, but was drowned out by Pyre suggesting he get ready for his patrol. He hadn’t left yet to make sure his comms were fully charged for the afternoon and evening.

He found it odd how adamant Daydream was about Buzzkill being dangerous, despite all the evidence proving he was just… helping. Of course, Ranboo could have gotten the woman out of the burning home by himself, but he wasn’t angry that someone came along to help speed the process up. Even as the news reported on Buzzkill sightings, namely around the residential areas where the first sighting had taken place, he couldn’t see what the guy was doing as anything but good. It felt like people were just blowing things out of proportion.

That, or he really wasn’t seeing the truth. Could Buzzkill really be dangerous, just biding his time by looking nice and helpful before doing something horrible?

“Hey, that doesn’t belong to you,” a voice, vaguely familiar, carried from down below, and Ranboo’s head shot down. It turned out he was looking in the wrong direction for the little masked bug Powered. “Wh-Hey! Stop!”

Ranboo popped down to the streets below, just as he heard shouting and running, followed by a loud buzzing. He looked around to see a young woman, several years older than him, holding her chest with wide eyes as she stared after the fleeing man and younger figure.

“What happened?” He asked in a rush.

“I, uh, he stole, my bag. My purse,” she stuttered in answer, jumping in surprise at him speaking to her.

“I’ll be right back,” Ranboo said, before popping down the street, just a little behind the chase.

Crap. He thought as he bolted after the thief and Buzzkill. He could tell it was him, the same exact sweater covering majority of his body with his pants sticking out. Barely any of the guy’s skin was shown, but it looked pale from the back, where his wings met back around the slits made in the sweater.

The thief they were chasing was tall and lanky, faster than the average person. Either they were a runner in school, or was Powered with speed of some kind. Whatever it was, Ranboo had to dig into his steps to close the gap.

“Buzzkill, cut him off before we lose him at the intersection!” He called, looking around carefully as he imagined the map of the city he was taught to memorize everyday.

“What do you think I’m doing?!” Came the curt reply, but Buzzkill’s wings buzzed even harder.

“Helping! Now come on!” He shouted as he popped several feet in front of the thief, spooking him to backpedal.

Right into Buzzkill’s direction. The two collided solidly and both fell to the floor. It gave Ranboo enough time to grab the back of the thief’s jacket, pulling his arms behind his back.

“Really man? Petty thievery? Are we back in the early 2000s?” He lightly berated, looking at the man with disappointment in his body language. He learned through 404 that it was hard to tell how he was thinking when they couldn’t see most of his face. Ranboo had since gotten quite good at conveying his feelings, or his persona, through his movements.

“Ow…” Buzzkill complained, his wings buzzing a couple times, and Ranboo saw the collision had taken down his hood. Dark hair and fragile looking antennae were shown, along with a pale upper half of his face. He was surprised to notice Buzzkill’s eyes looked familiar, grey-blue, though it was only thanks to the last dregs of the sun he saw them at all before the eyes went wide and he covered his head with the hood.

A thought wiggled in the back of his head. Why did Buzzkill seem so familiar? Outside of course of the time before, but even then, he thought he had been familiar. Did he know this guy? He looked about Ranboo’s age.

“Sorry about that. I would have warned you, but we were shouting and he would have heard, and that would have ruined the whole ‘catch the thief’ you know?”

“Ugh, whatever, prick,” Buzzkill picked himself up, brushing himself off. “Heroes will do whatever it takes to catch even a lowly criminal. We get it.”

“Wh-?” Ranboo almost asked, but it seemed Buzzkill was done with the conversation, grabbing the dark bag that had fallen, checking the contents.

“You haven’t taken anything out of this, right? It’s going to be a fucking pain if you did,” he questioned the thief, who shook his head. “Good. Now, really, man, why trying to steal?”

“Needed money. Rent’s due in a couple days. I’m just a little short. Not like I needed a couple hundred, and my landlord’s a fucking asshole who needs the exact amount or else he cuts electricity and water,” the guy panted, and Ranboo frowned.

“And he wouldn’t accept to wait for your next paycheck?”

“Oh fuck no,” he laughed mirthlessly. “He’s been trying to evict me for months, since I got demoted.”

“That’s not really fair…” Buzzkill grumbled.

“Okay… How much are you short?” Ranboo asked, loosening his hold on the man to have him turn so they could talk easier.

“Fifty bucks? I’ve been scraping by as-is, man,” the thief said.

“Okay, if I give you, say, a hundred bucks, can I get you to swear you won’t resort to criminal behaviour? Ask your friends if you need to or something. Don’t you adults get loans if you’re short money?” He questioned, pulling away to grab at a hidden compartment for his wallet, easily pulling out a couple hundred bills. He made sure to hide the fact it was two of them, wanting to do some extra good for a man clearly on a bad week.

“Thank you. Really. I’ll do whatever you want. I just need this place. I’m trying, really. I need to get out of that shithole, but without a secure income…” He shook his head, looking earnest. “Thank you, Hero.”

“Of course. I’m here to help, if I can,” Ranboo smiled widely behind the mask, glancing over at Buzzkill who was massaging his shoulder with his upper arms. Insect Powereds normally had extra limbs, but it was still such a strange thing to see outside of photos or biology books. “Isn’t that right, Buzzkill?”

“I’m not a hero, but yeah, sure,” he could practically imagine the eyeroll from behind the shadows cast over his face.

“Now, you take this and pay off that rent, and I don’t want to see you behind bars for another altercation. Got it?” Ranboo said, as sternly as he could. It was strange to berate a man older than him, but it wasn’t the first time. Still, it was strange every time.

“Tell… Tell that girl I’m sorry. From me?” The man nodded, stepping away from the two.

Ranboo nodded, and soon the man was heading off, clutching the money close to his chest like it would fly away.

The sound of buzzing alerted Ranboo, and he whirled around to see Buzzkill hovering, looking like he was about to just leave.

“Wh-hey, don’t go. We still have to give back the lady her bag!” He protested.

Buzzkill tilted his head. “What are you talking about? I did what I came here to do. Maybe if you hadn’t shown up, I would have, but you’re here to take all the credit despite not doing all that much,” he said scornfully, yet incredulous.

“I’m not taking credit, we worked together to stop him from becoming a criminal!” Ranboo retorted, confused. “Besides, if you hadn’t alerted me, I wouldn’t have known! You did help.”

“Wow, a hero admitting he’s not all-seeing? That’s a first,” Buzzkill said sarcastically. “What, are you trying to lower my guard to arrest me?”

“What? No, why would I do that?”

“News stations seem to have it out for me. You’re a hero. Working with the fucking Dream Team of all groups to be buddy-buddy with.”

“But, you were just helping that woman get her bag back. That’s not worth an arrest,” Ranboo was confused.

The two were silent for a moment before Buzzkill landed back down. It was hard to see his face with the shadows and lack of sun, but he imagined the other to be squinting at him.

“Just… give the purse back to her. I need to go before someone who does think I’m some big villain sees me.”

“I think they’re wrong, you know?” Ranboo blurted as Buzzkill turned away, preparing to fly off into the evening, but he stopped to glance back at him. “They keep saying you’re bad or evil, but I think you’re doing good. Just helping people. Like a hero, without all the annoying paperwork.”

Buzzkill huffed a laugh and started hovering up into the air. “Thanks. You’d be the only hero to think that, I’m sure.”

“Why do you think so badly of heroes, Buzzkill?”

“Hah, I know for a fact neither of us have all night to get into that,” there was some emotion in his words that tightened around Ranboo’s chest, some hurt that wasn’t supposed to come out. “Just know, Ender bitch; Heroes are rarely as good as they pretend to be behind closed doors. Skeling-tons in closets and all that.”

Ranboo couldn’t get another word in before Buzzkill took off into the sky, the sound of buzzing quickly fading away until it was completely out of earshot. He frowned after the bug Powered, wondering what he meant, and finding it ridiculous how he pronounced ‘skeletons’ so weirdly.

Chapter Text

Tubbo paced in his room, biting his thumb. He did as much homework as he could before his eyes kept sliding over to the clock and the ever-nearing 5 o’clock time. He still had time to get there. His father was gone for work, and Q was preparing dinner.

He had been debating himself ever since he got the texts. Did he really trust this “Mr. President” guy? Was he sure that the guy wasn’t a hero?

He dropped his hand to grab his phone, checking the messages, eyes scanning for anything more to be gleaned, and found nothing. Again. Like the last thirty times he had done so. It was as plain in meaning as before.

Tubbo sighed and looked to his closet, where he had been hiding the hoodie and mask. After the night before where his hood had fallen backwards in front of the stupid Enderian of all heroes, he had to think of a better head covering that wouldn’t fall off. Maybe he would have to change to have a full-head mask, like the superheroes from comics.

He’d worry about that after, and he pulled out the hoodie. He pulled it on without thinking and carefully eased his window open, quickly slipping out and half-closing it as he took off high into the air.

Like he had gotten used to, he flew high up as fast as he possibly could so no-one would know where he flew out of, nor would they possibly see where he was going, and he scanned the area for the park. It was relatively nearby, and it was the largest in the area. If Tubbo paid better attention to history, he would have remembered that it was a national landmark, where the founders fought for freedom to call L’Manburg a nation of its own almost a thousand years ago. Now it was just a large forested park with various statues scattered around that held no interest to Tubbo.

He slipped into the forested area, folding his wings down his back carefully to avoid getting them caught on the branches and other nuisances sticking out in the forest. He looked around as one set of arms heavily settled into the large single pocket on the front, taking out the mask and slipping it on while the other set grabbed his phone to check if he had any new messages. He wondered what happened to Tommy, when he hadn’t come to morning classes this morning, and hardly got to speak to each other the rest of the day. His best friend had looked tired and a little angry, his mouth in a perpetual frown. They really had only said the briefest hello and goodbye before they separated. Tommy even flew off home without talking to Tubbo.

He shook his head, forcing those thoughts away. He wasn’t here for Tommy, he was here to see what this Mr. President guy really wanted from him.

It was quiet in the forest now, outside of the birds chirping in the distance. Then, a twig snapped nearby, and Tubbo turned, not ashamed of being a little jumpy. He had no idea what to expect from such an encounter, he only hoped he wouldn’t be going to jail or worse by the end of it.

A man in a trenchcoat and strange looking tri-pointed hat picked his way through the forest, heading straight for Tubbo. The trenchcoat looked old but lovingly preserved, held together with a bunch of old-looking patches, including a very old version of the L’Manburg flag, during Confederacy. The hat looked like something from a reenactment faire, but larger and shadowing his face.

“Buzzkill.” The man said in a kind voice, and it was so familiar Tubbo’s mind blanked on why in surprise. “It’s good to know you accepted.”

“Uh,” Tubbo said, internally wracking his brain for why this man sounded familiar.

He was very tall - at this point Tubbo almost conceded that he was just short, almost - and dark hair peeked from the hat, short but curly. He held himself like an important person, even if he kept moving his neck to look around, same as Tubbo.

“As I said before, you may know me as Mr. President. I blame some of my… associates for such a moniker, but it works well enough. No one expects someone like me to lead a resistance like this.”

“Resistance?” Tubbo questioned, catching up a little as he continued to parse through the people in his life who matched the bits of information he had.

“Yes. You and I are not the only ones to disagree with how the heroes of our society have bastardized themselves for those who don’t need protecting, and harming those who do need the protection. As I mentioned before, I have associates who gave me my codename. And there are more, like you, who did not know about the resistance being created.”

“Were you the one to create it?”

“With some help, yes,” Mr. President shrugged, tilting his head and the shadows faded from his face, showing a wooden mask over his face. “In all honesty, Buzzkill, we’re still in the recruitment phase before we can really fix the city. That’s why I’ve asked to meet you here.”

“And how did you find out about me? Who I am,” Tubbo crossed his upper arms over his chest, his antennae twitching under the hood to try to sense if there was anyone nearby. The hood made that a little difficult.

“I have my ways, kid. I’m more observant than people think.”

Something about the cadence of his voice suddenly set a memory to the forefront of Tubbo’s mind, of an argument he had overheard a year ago between Tommy and one of his older brothers. He stared at the man and stood up straight, alarmed.

“Wil-” The other shot forward and clapped a hand over his masked mouth.

“Okay, I was wondering how long that would have taken, but say it aloud and I’ll have to tell one of our fathers about this to make sure my operation stays safe,” Wilbur hissed out before he pulled away.

“What the fuck man? Why couldn’t you just say so before!” Tubbo argued.

“Well, first off, I needed to know if I could trust you with this knowledge. I knew you’d figure out who I was, I mean, we both know your best friend, don’t we?” He shook his head, glancing behind him before looking back at Tubbo. “I had to make sure you wouldn’t try to rat me out. And on that, I promise I won’t rat you out as long as you don’t plan on suddenly being pro-heroes and all that shit.”

“There is no way I’ll become pro-hero any time soon,” Tubbo scoffed.

“Glad to hear that, my man!” Wilbur looped an arm around his shoulders and got them walking further into the forest. “Now, would you like to join the resistance?”

“I… I guess? But we have to figure out a name if you want to keep this thing a secret, Mr. Pres,” Tubbo shook his head, his heart rate picking up. There was no backing out now.

He just hoped Wilbur and whoever else was involved knew what they were doing, and were really just trying to fix the corruption of the hero system and nothing more sinister. Maybe once he met the other people, he’d be able to tell how genuine they were.

Tubbo was just shutting his room window when he saw the carbeams of his father’s car, and he hurriedly closed his window and flew to his desk. He pulled out textbooks and classwork that was due in a couple days, yanking off his mask and hoodie at the same time to throw in his closet to fix later.

He hoped his dad hadn’t seen him flying home. He would have no way to counter it well enough - even if he hadn’t left the house, he would seem guilty, his father never believed a word he said when it came to him using his wings - to not be punished.

“Tubs! Dinner!” Q called down the stairs, and Tubbo sighed heavily. He rubbed the sweat from his face, pulling his bangs back before shaking his head to get them back in place. He looked through his agenda where he had actually managed to put in the homework due if either his dad or Q asked about it. When they asked, really.

He took a breath before calling back that he’d be right down, checking his room before shutting his closet door, kicking the hoodie further in as he did so. With the evidence mostly hidden, he headed out to the dining room where Q was sitting waiting.

“Your dad wanted supper as soon as he got home,” he explained as the two heard the car in the driveway. “I think I got the timing down to a science, huh?”

Tubbo huffed a quiet chuckle and nodded. “Apparently. What is this?”

He looked at the dishes in front of him. A small pot of cooked peas, another pot with store-bought stuffing, and a plate of fat chicken legs, seasoned to perfection it looked like, along with a couple full rotisserie chickens.

“Nothing too special. Oh! The noodles! Tubbo, the pot should be on the stove. It’s off, don’t worry I didn’t forget that. Grab it for me?”

“Sure, Big Q,” Tubbo turned from the seat he had been about to sit down on to get to the kitchen to grab the pot of noodles - it looked like carbonara - just as the front door opened and slammed shut.

He practically flew back to the dining room table and put the pot on the cooling rack and sat down.

“Mr. Schlatt! Dinner’s ready and waiting,” Q called nervously.

Hopefully his dad was in a good mood. It was hard to tell most days.

“Good, I’m fucking starving,” came the gruff reply and heavy footfalls came from the entrance to the dining room.

Tubbo decided now was a good time to grab a leg and put it on his plate, if only to keep from locking eyes with his dad.

It was quiet for a bit as his father settled in to eat, the perpetual frown never leaving his face, and it was only a matter of time before-

“This god damned pest is a migraine,” he complained with enough venom Tubbo could barely contain a wince. “We get tips of the bug’s movements before he just ups and vanishes into fucking thin air? What, does the brat have some vanishing power along with being a stupid fly?”

Tubbo bit his cheek and kept his wings tightly tucked behind his back, his antennae limp against his skull. Make his bee traits small, and Dad won’t notice.

“Are you the only one on the case for this Buzzkill?” Q asked carefully.

“Don’t be a fucking idiot, of course not,” his father growled. “Everyone in the area has the villain as their priority.”

Tubbo wondered if he should be flattered or not that he was the heroes’ priority over everything else. It was an unpleasant thought either way.

“Right… Uhm, so, Tubbo, how’s goes classes today?” Q asked.

“Uh, good, good yeah,” he nodded, pushing the meeting with Wilbur out of his mind for the moment. “Tommy didn’t show up for morning classes, but came for the rest of the day. Other than that, nothing too newsworthy.”

“Been improving those grades?” His dad questioned, and Tubbo made the mistake of glancing his way and made direct-eye contact with him.

“Uh, uh, y-yeah. Yes, sir,” he dropped his gaze back to his plate. “I’ve managed to give back a couple assignments I was able to redo, and I think my teachers have said they’re better than before.” He left out how they weren’t much better than before, and he was still struggling to pass.

“Good,” he grunted and shoved stuffing into his mouth. “You better keep this up, boy.”

“Yes, sir,” Tubbo nodded, his appetite waning.

“Look at me when you’re talking to me, Tubbo,” his dad ordered with a snort, and Tubbo snapped his head up.

“Sorry, dad. Yes, sir,” he did his best to keep eye contact for long enough before turning back to his plate.

As soon as he forced himself to finish the last bites on his plate, he scurried out of the dining room, heading straight for his room to hide and breathe.