Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tallulah peeked over the porch rails beside Chayanne, watching flat string-like clouds blow across the hazy orange plateaus. The dark wood of their porch was obscured by the sun's setting, which was no problem for the two “hatchlings” as Papa Phil liked to call them.

“Ooh..” She whined, restlessly tapping her ankles together, leaning her head against wooden rails.

Their heads turned to the opening screen door, watching a plume of dust get swept out by a straw broom. Philza or Missa? The pair guessed to themselves as they shielded their poor eyes under the collars of their shirts and in the bends of their elbows.

“Oh my god, you’re still out here?” Remarked a pitchy British man, holding the broom out in front of him. Philza. The hatchlings nodded, looking up at their father when the dust dissipated into the desert air. “He won’t be here till dawn,” he said, going to sit on the porch step beside the two, pulling Tallulah into his lap in one swift swipe of his arm. “Oooohh….” She sighed dramatically, melting into her father’s warm embrace.

The scruff of his beard and shoulder-level locks of hair tickled the top of her head.

It’d been seven months since her real father had left the settlement. Leaving behind nothing but a sheet of music and a tearful goodbye, he disappeared into the night not to be heard from until last week, when a federation worker delivered them a letter that Wilbur wanted sent to them.

Everyone was apprehensive about the federation workers visiting, their odd masks and uniforms were out of place and they held an ambiguous authority over them. Every few months they’d bring their little pueblo new members through a train system that stretched across the plateau, going to and from the federation camp.

Where they found these people? They never said, but it was always a pleasure to see new faces on the settlement.

“Do you think he fell off the plateau?...” The girl whimpered, reaching up to play with the loose strands of Phil’s green poncho, which draped across the man's shoulders. “No,” he told through a lighthearted chuckle, “I think the federation worker would’ve told us that-”

“Look!” Chayanne pointed to the horizon where two horses were charging up the rocky trail.

“Is that him?!” Tallulah shot up from her father’s lap and climbed the nearby porch rail, “it’s him!!” She shouted. “It’s!- oh…”

On the horses were a short brunette-blonde and a tall ravenette, their steeds lifting clouds of sand behind them. “eUgH! Kids inside, now!” Philza swung open the door, closing it shut after the kids kicked off their boots and rushed inside. He was always the first to scold them about tracking sand in the house, especially after he just finished sweeping the day’s dust.

Minutes later, the two would walk through the door with empty burlap sacks hung over their arms.

“¡Mijo!” “¡Pa Missa!” The tall man caught his son as he ran to him, pulling him into a tight hug. “We struck gold with the avocados, and potatoes sold as usual.” The shorter boy celebrated, tipping his hat before walking into the house to sit by the coffee table.

“How was waiting for Wilbur, poultry queen?”

Tallulah pouted, climbing the sofa cushions to peer over the windowsill but by then the sun was well over the rooves of the many homes. Mesa Caza Día had many properties sprawled across the land, some close to the town center they called “Spawn,” and others, like their own, were isolated in the uneven geography. She used to live with her papa at the bottom of the hill, near the creek that led to the town and had been under the care of Phil and Missa.

Theirs was homier and had a long strip of prairie behind the house that stretched as far as the eye could see.

“No te preocupes Tallulah, él llegara pronto,” Missa reassured the hatchling, lowering Chayanne on the sofa beside her and

She sat silently staring out into the early night, meeting her gaze in the reflection of the mirror. Her heart ached, and the men’s hearts ached for her.

“Incoming!” Philza called from the kitchen, holding a boiling pot of potato soup with hand towels on either side of the handles. “Eres demasiado buen papá, Philza.” Missa smiled, kneeling in front of their little table to eat. “Seriously, man, this looks amazing!”

Damp skies on mesa Caza Día were rare and regarded as a bad omen to many settlers.

First noted on the day that Trump went missing, then Juana’s accident, then Bobby’s.
There wasn’t a true “beginning” to when they founded their pueblito, but many regarded it to be when the Spanish and English settlers were united by the Federation.

Those early days were miserable. With no one to blame, many departed from the main settlement, incapable of withstand the pressure of starting anew amongst strangers. This corner of the mesa was dangerous, but the new mineral-rich land found by the Federation was a prospect better than any wasteland they originated from.

Children died. Many children died. Such was this cruel life, they condemned no man except the Federation for carelessly placing children in households they knew were unfit for childrearing.

Besides, they had no one else but eachother to rely on.

Using nothing more than the dotted skies and rocky landscape as his guide, the man finally located and rode along the Federation tracks in his stead. His coat fluttered behind him as he turned the corner of the valley, his hands tightening over his horse’s reigns when he caught a glimpse of the settlement, he charged ahead at full speed.

What he saw out there was nothing like he’d ever seen before, and he’d seen it all. Or so he thought when he set off on his long voyage seven months ago.

“HYAH!!” He dug the spurs of his boots into his stead’s side, diverting from the federation tracks to head straight for the far end of the town.

…

The sun’s sweltering heat beamed through their casita’s front window, pulling the young girl out of one of the deepest slumber she’s ever had.

As she sat up, a heavy dark coat peeled off her shoulders. Her entire back and face were sticky and dripping in sweat. “Papa?” She cried out into the air.

“Hrrnngh…” uttered a tired entity from below.

Tallulah gasped and scurried to the edge of the couch to peer over the coffee table, which had several cups of half-drunken cups of her fathers’ morning coffee and last night’s leftover potato soup.

She frowned.

It was the farmhand, Tubbo, curled up on a thin futon and pillow.

Tallulah backed further into the couch and leaned back against the cushion, rubbing the cushion marks out of her cheek as she glanced out at their porch. The sun was blinding, but on the porch stood a tall figure leaning against the pillar, staring out into the desert.

Her stomach sunk and quickly ducked behind the sofa. “Pa Phil, there’s a hat man on the porch…” She called toward the kitchen, where she heard the usual morning clatter of dishes being washed.

The man belted a cackle from the kitchen, peering into the living room with a big grin. “Llulah, that’s not a federation worker, that’s your papa.”

Chapter Text

“ ¡¡¿¡Como!?!!” Roier, the newlywed shouted with a fist slammed onto the table. His husband in question, Cellbit flashed him a concerned glance and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Calma, Guapito.” He spoke slowly to him. “Calma.”

“I don’t know what that could be, but it's weird,” a dark haired man, with a brilliant blue hat hanging behind him from drawstrings, spoke. He sat weirdly close to Fit, his self-proclaimd roommate, who wore sandy colored leather vest with a green ribbon tied under his collar. He also wore a clanky toolbelt with just about every ranch equipment one might need.

They gathered in ‘The Order,’ a self-governing facility. It was their way of settling disputes and addressing community issues without Federation assistance. Even though The Order’s “facility” was actually just Cellbit’s basement cellar, members of the settlement thought it to be a sacred place where true democracy could be practiced. 

Thump!

The room’s gazes rose to the ceiling, where a single lightbulb swayed and buzzed amidst several little pairs of pit-pat-like steps from above. “I’ll go check on them,” Pac said, and stood up to do so.

“I wish I could’ve caught better photos, but these are the best we’re gonna have for a while.” Wilbur sighed once the man pushed the cellar door shut, sliding a roll of film onto the table. Secretly, he hoped he never had to catch or even see a code. 

If he’d known how far he’d be traveling, he’d have let someone more experienced with long-distance navigation go instead; like Etoiles. If he’d known how strong they’d be, he’d have also let someone better at combat go instead too; like Foolish, Phil, or Etoiles.

If he’d known how sweaty he’d get underneath the merciless heat he’d have definately allowed someone like Bad go in his place. Or Etoiles. After experiencing the wild west’s barren wasteland for what it was, he really just wished it was Etoiles getting chased by tumbleweeds and fighting off hungry coyotes instead of him. That French bastard. Eugh.

He could scave past the coyotes and just barely outrun the tumbleweeds, but unavoidable were the emotions. They’d always complicate things, and after seeing Tallulah wake up in a cold sweat for the fifth night in a row, he knew he needed to chase after the very being that haunted her nightmares.

He was first to arrive at the following Order meeting and made a single promise; to study the “nightmare” - or codes as they started calling them - and figure out where exactly they were going. The settlement members were able to talk him into this more achievable goal, his original plan to take them down singlehandedly wasn’t well-received.

So that week he bid his dear Tallulah and family a bittersweet farewell and set off to follow “it.” Day and night, he followed, watched, and photographed them. Then he saw her.

“Juana Flippa?!” Wilbur uttered under a stifled breath, watching a herd of codes wander the plains some hundred miles away from the settlement.

In the middle of the herd, the little Juana zipped from one side of the field to the other. He watched, and watched, moving between the shrubbery and boulders to watch for hours on end. He watched her climb a tree, chase codes, get chased by codes, and wrestle beasts that nearly bested the warriors of the settlement (he was still thinking of Etoiles), then climb another tree. He’d fall asleep watching the girl run circles around codes, and when birds began chirping their morning tune, he’d wake and she’d still be running in the same spot with a circle digging into the ground.

At his worst state, he watched her appear and disappear between bushes. He’d seen her climb a cactus and phase through rocks - then reappear in trees. 

At first, he believed that he died in the desert and woke up in purgatory. It wasn’t too far-fetched, the month before he had been to her funeral, comforting the tearful Charlie as they lowered her casket into the wet ground.

Her existence denied everything he once knew about their life on the mesa.

But the most striking realization he had was after everything she did, she never once tracked sand on her clothes.

Throughout his journey, he found sand and soot in places he didn’t know sand and soot could reach. He’d wake up a sweating mess and dirt caked in his hair. He’d pull off his glasses to clear the dust from the lens after every breeze and take advantage of the smallest spring water streams.

Wilbur knew himself to be a well-groomed man, sometimes more than Philza, but out on the mesa’s neverending expanse of desert, it was unfathomable.

“Trust me when I say, whatever the fuck that was, it was not Juana Flippa. And whatever it is, it’s been getting closer every. Single. Day.”

On the furthest corner of the order stood a tall black hooded silhouette, he stepped forward and leaned over the faded-out ironwood table. “First of all, language.”  Wilbur’s face scrunched up at his comment. “Secondly,” the man, Bad, said as he picked up the brown roll of film and pulled a short strip to observe. ‘As I expected,’ Bad sighed, “sunbleached.” Cellbit alongside Roier and the others stood up to examine the strip of film he held. The film was overexposed, faint mountain ridges were invaded by dark brown blotches of void. “I can try to save them, worst case scenario, we ask the federation for help.”

No one was particularly excited about contacting the federation, except for maybe Sheriff Foolish and Jaiden, but even they were wary of them. 

They had advanced train systems across Mesa Caza Día, their main station had ceilings so high that even their tallest settlement members needed to crank their heads up to get a full view of its impressive ceiling detailing. The federation building complexes and camps were even bigger. Their heavy brick was impenetrable and even if they did get past the yellowing concrete, security was tight. 

The settlement had an unspoken rule about working with federation workers; to always document interactions and never leave the kids near them. Nonetheless, the settlement couldn’t deny the fact that their technology was a lot more advanced than theirs – or the fact that they sometimes did help them build up their community. 

The room fell silent, Philza sending both Cellbit and Bad a worried look.

“Bueno, nos vemos si miren algo en las fotos, ¿vale?” Roier spoke after no more than a minute of silence.

“Uh..” Bad uttered, looking between the couple with an expectant look.

“OH! Guapito, no entendieron – we’ll see eachother if you see something in the photos. Ok?” Cellbit clarified and cleared his throat 

“ Muy bueno,” Fit affirmed, letting out a hearty chuckle, “we’d better get the kids then. We’re glad to have you back Wilbur.” The man stood up and gave their old friend a friendly slap on the back, to which he winced but still fronted a smile in return.

“Anything for the kids,” Wilbur said, “ anything for the kids. ” Repeated some of the others in near-perfect unison, their chairs scraping and spurs clinking against eachother as they shuffled out of the basement to a wide foyer.

Cellbit and Roier’s home was gorgeous, a wide two-floored home with dark cherrywood walls and glossy herringbone floors. With the help of Sheriff Foolish, they constructed this marvel of architecture on the mesa and always kept open doors to new visitors, and of course, children.

“Richas! Demais brincalhão! DEMAIS-” Pac shrieked before ducking behind the stairwell’s landing. The foyer was in shambles. Blankets were strewn along the stair rails. Pillows, balled-up children’s bandanas, and for some reason now, sand flew across the space. 

Tallulah sat at the bottom of the stairs beside an overwhelmed Tubbo blowing into her flute, but her melody, while usually calm, added to the overabundance of noise.

“HahahAHAHaHA! I got you Chayanne, I got you!” The rowdiest boy in a long yellow shirt shouted from the middle step, hopping off the fifth step of the stairs and onto his knees at the bottom. 

Chayanne bolted down the stairs after him, flailing a wooden play sword in the air “I hit your leg with my sword! You can’t walk! That’s how combat works, dummy!”

“No! it wasn’t a crit, ¡pendejo! ” “¡Apestas, Richas!” “IDIOTA!” “PUT-” “LANGUAGE!!!” Bad cried, scanning the room for Dapper to cover his ears. 

“Jesus - give me that!” Philza hurried over and snatched the wooden sword out of his son’s grasp, giving him a hard glare as he did so. “What happened?! We left you for twenty minutes!” The blonde scolded. As it turns out, a lot could happen in twenty minutes. A pillow fort turned into a pillow fight and a pillow fight - turned into a spar of wooden swords and shovels - turned into bringing sand to throw into your enemy's eyes and blind them - turned into making sandcastles in the house - turned into chaos.

Pac and Tubbo exchanged a look of guilt as the parents came up from the basement, each of them marveling at the destruction their children had caused. “Sorry guys, they have minds of their own you know…” Pac uttered meekly. “Yeah, we’ll clean it up! Uh.. somehow.” Tubbo offered with an unconvincing grin.

Fit sighed and stepped forward, “welp, you know what this means? More chores for the kids! Especially you Ramon. Come on, up and at ‘em!” There was a collective groan among the hatchlings, but no matter how many pleading looks they gave their parents they all seemed to stand for Fit’s ruling. They could usually ease out of discipline from Tubbo and Pac and sometimes even Bad, but never Fit. The kids pitied Ramon for that. The others had parents and family to go to if they got tired of one parent, but Ramon only had Fit. 

“‘Guess we’re staying, how's about we get a kettle going?” Philza suggested, looking over at the other parents. “OOH!”  Foolish perked up. “That’s a great idea, might as well ehheh... If you guys clean fast enough we’ll have hot coffee!” He mused in a high tune-like chime.

“¡Ahh, cafecito!” hummed Roier as he rushed over to the kitchen to make work of the kettle. Jaiden, Foolish, Wilbur, Bad, Baghera, and Etoiles followed after him while the rest of the parents lingered in the foyer for moral support.

That settles it. They were all staying at Cellbit and Roier’s for the evening. 

Dapper and Bad left early to start progress on restoring the photos, lucky them… When Fit put the rest to clean everything, he meant everything. 

Lullah found her way into the kitchen to escape the chores. Holding her flute tight against her chest she went over to her papa, her real papa, and belly-flopped over his crossed legs.

No one bats an eye.

Not Philza. Not Cellbit. Not papa. She’s in. 

Minutes of kicking her legs over her father’s lap and feeling the leather of his dark coat pass, between the conversation of a strange flock of capybaras and federation “fofoca.” 

She gets bored. 

“Papa…” She whines, sinking further into his gentle hold. “Yes?” He responds promptly, “are we going home soon?” “Soon enough.” She pouts. 

“Lullahh!!” Whisper shouted a little voice from the doorway, “Manzanita!!” She shot up from her father’s lap and scurried off to meet her friend.

“I thought we’d never finish…” the little girl, Pomme, let out a heavy exhale and took her friend’s hands in her own. “I’m sorry I left you.” The youngest shook her head and smiled at Tallulah, “it’s okay! I told them you didn’t want to bring sand inside…” “Or pillow fight,” Tallulah giggled back. “-OR SWORD FIGHT!!” shouted Leonarda as she pushed past Pomme to enter the kitchen.

“Excuussee youuu,” Tallulah sassed and stuck her tongue out at Leo, “bleeehh,” she stuck it back out at her. 

Wilbur eyed Foolish, and Foolish eyed him back. 

Seeing the tension between the parents, Cellbit cleared his throat and announced in a cheery tone. “ Heyyy, ¡cafecito!” The room erupted in “ OOOHH!!” ‘s as the kids scampered into the kitchen for a serving.

“Thank you!” “You’re welcome, Ramón.”

“Gracias Tio Cellbit,” “Te Nada, Leonarda.”

“Obrigado pa,” “claro, Richas.”

“Two for us please!” “Tubbo!? Pac?! You aren’t eggs…” They gave him puppy dog eyes, “Oh come on…” Cellbit reluctantly poured them cups of coffee, and the clear glass steamed around the rim.

Pomme pulled Tallulah into line with her to wait their turn, but their plans to get the elder girl a cup of their famous coffee were foiled in an instant. “Tahllulah….” Phil called in a calm but stern tone, she swore the man had hawk eyes. “Come.”

Dread . Her stomach twisted into a knot as she slowly pulled away from Pomme’s handhold to go to her father. “You know have nightmares Tallulah, you can’t have coffee.” He spoke in a low voice. The girl averted her gaze from his, staring off at the other hatchlings fetching their cups from Cellbit before running off into the foyer with tall glasses of bittersweet goodness. “It’s not because we don’t want you to drink coffee, it’s because you don’t sleep well.” We , meaning he and Wilbur. She nodded. “I was just getting in line with Manzanita…” She whined, to which Phil nodded as well. “Right, I’m just reminding you.” She nodded again, suddenly becoming very aware of how many times she’d shaken her head as a response.

“That’s all,” he gave her head a gentle pat before sending her off.

Tallulah was usually anything but defiant. Yet, her eyes burned with envy as she returned to her friend’s side on the bottom stairs, watching as the rest sipped and clinked glasses. “Do you want some? I don’t really like coffee...” Pomme offered, holding her cup up to Tallulah. She eyed the cup, then her friend, then peeked over the stair’s rails and doorway to see her papas, Phil and Wilbur. They were fully absorbed in conversation with Tio Charlie, and it seemed as if the other parents were too.

A few sips couldn’t hurt.

“All tuckered out.” Wilbur cooed, gently pulling the girl’s hat off her head and loosening the hair ties out. He was sure that after spending the day at Cellbit’s and the long ride home with them in, she’d feel ease heaving them out.

Philza smiled at them approvingly as he handed his sleepy blonde boy off to Missa to put to bed, they shared a bedroom whenever she and Wilbur stayed over. 

He returned to the living room, ready to discuss what he’d been holding off with his traveled son. “Now… fighting the codes–” “I’m still leaving Phil,” Wilbur spoke sharply, his words cutting through the stiff air. 

The girl tensed underneath her father’s hold, Phil was quick to notice and hush his loud-mouthed son, but neither of them could’ve known she’d been awake since Cellbit and Roier’s. Even after all the other’s sugar rushes wore off and grew weary, eventually falling asleep in the safety of their parent’s hold until they departed, she remained awake and very aware.

“Don’t kid yourself.” The older man scoffed. “I’m not kidding, Phil, I’m leaving, and I’m taking Tallulah.”

Wilbur lowered Tallulah onto the sofa, tearing off his coat to place over her. It weighed heavy over her, he always made it look so effortlessly light when it sat on his back. The blonde furrowed his brow and went over to a nearby cupboard to fetch a proper blanket and pillow for the girl. 

“You’re not taking her, not from her friends, not from her family.” Phil’s voice was tense, it was nothing like the unrelenting patience she’d gotten back at Cellbit’s. 

“Phil, I am her family-”

“You’re her father,” the blonde corrected without missing a beat, unravelling the blanket and covering the girl. “WE are her family, and you’re not taking her.”

“Phil–” “Look at yourself, Will.” “I’ve looked enough, for seven months!” 

She flinched at her father’s shout, her mind racing with so many thoughts, she gave herself migraines just listening to them snap back and forth. They both noticed the girl stirring in her supposed sleep and silently agreed to take their “discussion” outside, but there was nothing silent about it once they stepped onto the porch.

“Get a grip, we are not moving into the middle of fucking nowhere.”

“They’re coming Phil, they’re coming, you haven’t seen the shit I’ve seen. They are not of this fucking planet. I know because I’ve seen it with my FUCKING EYES!” 

“Oh my god, how thick is your skull?! We ARE safe here, we ARE safe because we have EACHOTHER.”

A faint clattering of hooves would couple in between barking remarks and spit. Curious, she crawled from under the blanket and her papa’s coat to peer over the windowsill. Her eyes widened as she saw five horses racing uphill to their home, sitting atop were silhouetted figures holding lanterns, some in pairs and others alone. Phil pushed past Wilbur to run down the porch, his long green cloak fluttering behind him as he ran to open the heavy metal gate to their ranch. They’d narrowly make it through the opening, the line of horses splitting off in different directions as they approached the porch for a smoother arrival.

She tightened her hold on her papa’s coat wishing she hadn’t had any coffee, and wishing she wasn’t so damned afraid of the dark. Maybe then she could come out from under her father’s coat and satisfy her curiosity. Or maybe then, just maybe, she could ease herself back to sleep without her nightmares creeping up on her.

With the courage she had in her little body, she leaned over the sofa’s back and pressed her ear to the wall.

“... found three children… in the…” Their voices were muffled by the gusts of unruly wind, she could hear her pa Phil’s coat whip through the frigid air.

“The photographs… corrupted… some were…” Tallulah pressed her eyes tight shut as if it would help her hear through the wooden surface. Whether it be by sheer coincidence or manifestation, she heard her uncle Fit’s deep nervous chuckle followed by words that couldn’t be spoken clearer.

“It’s daming, Juana was fucking floating.”

Then, Tubbo followed with one of his witty quips. “At least we know Wilbur isn’t going crazy!” She could only assume the others gave him harsh glares, judging by their silence.

New children on the Mesa… Tallulah whimpered and leaped back underneath the safety of the blanket, holding her father’s coat close to her chest as her head sunk deep into the pillow.

Flippa floating… She couldn’t tell whether she should be excited, worried, or scared. She’d been at the funeral too, everyone had, the prospect of Flippa being alive made her uneasy. 

One thing was certain, she would not be getting good rest tonight.

Chapter Text

The federation set up medical tents downtown and inside laid three little children. Scrawny, shivering, and scared.

Fit and Pac were corralling cattle with Tubbo for the night - when they spotted Cucurucho trudging into the town with three children. The smallest wore a long red and white shirt, sitting on the tall bear-like man’s shoulders, hands placed atop his tipped broad-brimmed hat. Holding his hand was the eldest of the three, a droopy hat lying limp over her brown hair. Skipping ahead was a shorter girl, sitting at the tip of her nose was a pair of too-big shades, she wore them with fervor.

Dozens of federation workers rolled in with tools and furniture in wheelbarrows and wagons. 

Fit could always see the glints of envy fill Tubbo’s eyes when he tagged along with the parents, and he could see him stare at the young children with an aching heart. The girl in the shades stopped in her tracks to stare up at them, marveling at the men sitting atop their tall horses. When he got close enough, Cucurucho nudged her into the tent. 

Tubbo’s gaze wandered from the young children to him, then Pac, a pout on his face. The three hopped off their horses to ask questions at the tent, but seeing the beaten state of the kids up close, they figured they’d only get in the way of the workers tending to them and left.

Heading back to the house they saw Bad and Dapper barrelling down the main road and harshly pulled at the reins as he approached them. “Quick!!” He shouted. “To Phil’s now.”

They couldn’t deny the tone of his voice, knowing it must’ve had something to do with the photos.

He’d gotten accustomed waking up to furious bangs on his door, but since the new kids arrived he’d have peaceful awakenings to the sound of the crackling furnace. 

The farmhand, Tubbo, would wake up early in the morning and ride over from Phil’s ranch, and tend to their cattle after Phil’s. As thanks, they’d house the boy in the inner town, but his growing age made it less of a necessity and more of a nice change in atmosphere.

The four of them, he, Tubbo, Ramon, and as of lately Pac, lived in the center of the activity with sprawling businesses and homes all cramped beside one another. Around this time they’d only see Bagi, Mike, and occasionally Phil running their errands. The sun didn’t touch down on the settlement rooves until noon, and the plateau behind them was just close enough to obscure the sunshine over the edge of the buildings across from them. 

Few continued their day unbothered, but the consensus was to stay inside until the whole town saw sunlight. 

“Oiii… Tubbo?” Fit called from the other room, rubbing the heavy weariness from his eyes. Beside him, was his roommate, his chest gently rising and falling to the sound of the ticking clock at their bedside.

“Yes?” Tubbo called back, poking at the flame from underneath while Ramon worked the pans of food above.

Fit reached out for the nearby dresser and pulled out whatever shirt and pants his hand landed on. It was laundry day by the sound of the hollowed drawer. He’d soon emerge from the bedroom wearing a thick pair of jeans, a white shirt, and a brown form-fitting vest. He fumbled to tighten the toolbelt at his waist as he entered the kitchen.

“Oooh,” he hummed, leaning against the doorframe with a growing smile. “Hey, Fit…” Tubbo uttered in a low voice. 

“Hey, man,” he paused, glancing down at the boy. “Thinking of Fred?” Tubbo shook his head, his gaze stuck on the glowing charcoal in the furnace. “Thinking about the kids in those tents. And Flippa, but mostly the kids.”

Fit nodded in understanding, he’d be lying if he didn’t say he wasn’t curious too. “Say… if you stay and finish breakfast, start laundry.. I’ll go down myself and get the fofoca about them, maybe even put in a good word for you, eh? Those kids probably need homes.” 

The boy shot up with a big grin, “you’d do that for me?!!” Fit smiled, and crossed his arms over his chest, “of course. I don’t work for the feds for nothin.’” Tubbo engulfed the man in a tight embrace, pressing his cheek deep into his chest before turning to Ramon, picking him off his feet and spinning him. “AahhH!! PAN’S HOT! PAN’S HOT!” The boy yelped, soon erupting in a laughing fit. 

“Watch it!” Fit said, ducking before his head made contact with sizzling cast iron. He crept towards the front door – which was more of a side door into their horse shed – and it led straight into the main road. He slipped on his leather strapped boots by the entrance and shouted at the two in the kitchen, “I’ll be back!” 

“Okay!” They called back from the kitchen through giggles. 

Fit smiled back at them and pulled his coat off the nearby hangers, leaving as soon as he was sure that the pan was safely placed on the stovetop.

He rode down the wide dirt road. His gaze fell over the rocky plateau to his left for half the trip, then the barren prairie, the sunny side, to his right. Fit preferred life on Mesa Caza Día to his old life, he’d found purpose in the settlement and virtue in raising his son right as a single father.

His eyes narrowed over a white coat and tipped hat. “Oii!! Fucker!” He called out to the man, hopping off his horse by the tent. 

“Good morning,” Cucurucho spoke, monotone, forced.

“Good morning, what’s with the tent?” Didn’t matter if he tried to mock the man, Fit’s voice would always come off more sincere.

“What’s with the kids? Where’d they come from?” He was met with silence, before being given a stern; “classified.” 

“Okay, can I meet them?” Fit asked. 

“Yes.”

…

He walked around the taller man, one of few on the mesa taller than him, and entered. The three children sat between two beds facing eachother, they were no older than five and looked sickly in complexion.

“Fit!” “Ah, Bagi, bom dia!” Beside the girl in the droopy hat sat Bagi, “Fit you aren’t gonna believe it! I’m a mom!” His face lit up with joy, “really? That’s amazing!” The woman with split-colored hair pulled the girl into a tight squeeze and smiled.

“This is Em, Em say hi to Fit!” The girl had dark skin and fluffy fair hair, she weakly waved at the man and let out a meek. “Hello.”

“Hey… If you’re her mom now, does that mean these kids are up for adoption?” Bagi nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! I was just keeping the other’s company before they got adopted too.” Fit hummed with pursed lips, “hMMmm.. Alright.” He looked between the two, but his eyes landed on the girl in the shades. 

She had a lighter complexion than Em, but shades warmer than his own. Her hair had the same oddity that some of the other settlers shared with several blonde streaks running along the tips of her short hair.

“Cowboy!” She shouted.

“Uhh– yeah, on the horses remember?”

“Yeah! With the small cowboy, and the medium cowboy.” 

“Uh-huh, how about you come along with us? You’ll have a new cowboy papa– not me, it’d be uh… the small cowboy–” The girl gasped and interrupted in a snap. “Is he rich?!” 

Fit chuckled, feeling a dash of Deja Vu. “Yeah, er.. Sorta. He works all around the settlement. So I’d say he’s rich in-” “Yay! Take me!!!” character…

He was sure that she wouldn’t understand the complexities of their socio-economic statuses if she saw where they were living. At least, he hoped she didn’t at her young age.

Sunny pulled the two other kids at the tent in with her thin arms, they were stick-like and had bandages wrapped around them. “Bye! I’m gonna be the rich cowboy’s daughter!” Bagi giggled and wrapped her arms around the huddle of children, “you’re gonna love Tubbo, Sunny.” She said softly into the girl's ear as she loosened her grip on them.

“Sunny?” Fit said with a grin.

The hooves of his steed clattered against the road, lifting small plums of dust as they trotted down the town’s main road. The sunlight now split down the middle of the road and the road alongside the shady side.

“Uncle Fit… it’s cold.” Sunny would look up at him and whine, prompting him to guide the horse toward the sunny side. The light rustling of the scarce bushes – that rung alongside wind chimes was serene for as long as Sunny wasn’t whining.

Silence. Serene. 

“Uncle Fit…..” She uttered guiltily. 

Fit sighed. “Yes?”

“It’s too hot,” Sunny replied, Fit looked down at the girl in front of her, dutifully noting the beads of sweat dripping down her forehead. He wouldn’t want to leave a bad impression on the little lady. Not if she and Tubbo were going to be staying with them. Fit guided the horse back to the shady side. The cool shadows were thinning with every minute, it’d be noon soon. 

The cycle started as early as when Cucurucho handed him Sunny’s records in a folder. He tucked it safely in his horse’s saddle bag and hurried Sunny out of the afternoon heat. The mesa had two extremes of temperature, you could be chattering your teeth with a numb nose in the shade or fanning yourself uncontrollably, dripping with sweat, in the sun. The adults in the settlement had gotten accustomed to it. The children complained about the weather but dealt with it one way or another.

“Uncle Fit.”

Fit shut his eyes and inhaled sharply. “Yes, Sunny?”

“Where did you come from?” He jerked suddenly, the horse whinnying at the abrupt movement. Sunny tensed at their ride’s protests and tightened her hold on the saddle. 

“Where did I come from?” Fit repeated, disbelief lacing his words, “well… The wasteland! That’s where most of us come from. Where did you come from, Sunny?”

She withdrew to a timid silence, unlike how she’d been the entire ride. “Ah, forget I asked,” Fit said, offering her a weak smile. Sunny looked off to the rocky ridges leading up to the plateau, she‘d frown. “Snakes… lots of weird snakes, and waterfalls. I don’t remember, mmm, but Cucurucho found us, and trapped the snakes!” 

Waterfalls? Snakes? “That’s very interesting Sunny. You could tell your pa all about it when we get home.” The girl sunk back against Fit with a growing smile, he radiated a comfortable father-like warmth.

“My pa…” She repeated triumphantly, like a trophy that she’d fought tooth and nail for.

They’d approach the dense part of town, where porches connected with long strips of elevated logs and shared porch rooves. “There it is, Sunny! Hyah!!” Fit flicked the reins, the horse sped towards their home and went straight to the shelter. By then the sun had finally reached their balcony, casting a sweltering heat against the wooden floorboards of their humble abode. 

Hopping between the porch pillars and platform, five children (much older than herself) passed around an old dusty ball. They kicked sand into the air between passes, with bare feet and pants rolled up to their knees, they shouted at each other and cackled between shoves and pushes. “Hey!! Mind the sand,” the cowboy with the same odd hair as her scolded as he pinned dripping wet laundry onto a clothesline. His furrowed brow smoothed into disbelief in seconds when he caught sight of the girl riding in front of Fit. 

“ Tio !! The ball!” One of the older boys, Dapper, with dark skin and short raven-like hair, shouted as the ball came barreling towards him. In the heat of the moment, Tubbo kicked the ball towards where he was running, Sunny. The ball bounced off her forehead, leaving only a cloud of dust as proof of the attack, then wedged itself on the porch’s gutter. 

He let out a squeak-like yelp and ran over, “oh my god– OH MY GOD! Hello!!” The cowboy held his arms up to her. Sunny’s lip quivered, a wave of unease overcoming her as she dealt with the whiplash. Seeing the kids approach with their fearless curiosity proved a poor first introduction. “Nhhg.. nhh…” The girl would tightly wrap her limbs around Tubbo and start bawling. “Oh, poppet, shh shh. It’s okay!” He supported the girl with an arm underneath her and the other caressing her young blonde brunette hair.

Fit flashed the new father a worried look as he desperately bounced the girl in his arms, holding her tight. She heaved uncontrollably when Tallulah came over and touched her leg. Fit gently moved Lullah out of the way and ushered the new father and Sunny into the home. Standing by the door were Pac and Phil exchanging worried looks as they watched the kids outside. 

“Pa?” Tallulah tugged at her father’s long coat with sunken features. “Why did she start crying?” The others came over to the parents for answers, confused and hurt. 

“Maybe she’s just a crybaby,” Richas offered. Pac nervously laughed and shook his head.

“Não, Richinhas. É mais complicado que isso.”

Philza peered inside the main room of the home, where Tubbo sat by the kitchen table rocking the girl in his arms as she bawled. Fit leaned over trying to talk to the girl to no avail. Their intentions in approaching the girl after Tubbo’s critical hit were ill-received, clearly. He looked back at the kids and quickly shut the door. “How about we stay out here for a bit? The sun’s finally out!” 

The kids were easily excitable and quickly turned back to the street to continue their game – but their heads soon fell back to see their ball stuck on the porch’s roof. 

“Crisis averted,” Pac chuckled, Phil smiled back at him and sighed in relief.

“Pheww… I don’t think I’ve met the new kids yet. We’ve been dealing with a lot of troubles at home, it’s hard to keep up with what’s happening on the settlement” The older man admitted, his gaze falling on Tallulah. Pac set a hand on Phil’s shoulder. “It’s okay! We’ve been really busy here too, mostly taking care of Tubbo . When we saw them the other day, they looked weak and hurt. Maybe she’s overwhelmed?”

“I don’t blame her. Do we know how old she is?” Phil said, Pac agreed. “I wonder…” 

“She’s five years old, she’s fine by the way,” Fit said, catching the end of the conversation as he stuck his head through the front home window. “The smallest is four, eldest is eight.” 

“Four and eight?! That’s ridiculous, where were they?” The blond remarked. Pac was speechless. Fit shook his head, looking down at the dust-covered porch. “Cucurucho wouldn’t tell me, but Sunny told me something real’ interesting on her way here.”

“ Sunny… ” Pac and Phil said in near unison. “Yeah, she saw snakes and waterfalls and looked at the plateau.” The other two men knew Fit to be a sound man with a good head on his shoulders, they knew he wouldn’t have mentioned it if he knew Sunny wasn’t completely sincere. Nonetheless, they had never seen waterfalls on the mesa, the concept of waterfalls was condensed into small streams and embankments that widened on the rare rainy day. More confusing was that it was beyond the plateau.

How the girl and the children got there – much less found there by the Federation was beyond anyone’s current comprehension of what was possible on Mesa Caza Día. Phil looked perturbed as he stared off at Richas, he and Dapper, took turns trying to climb the porch posts, their techniques varying every time. Chayanne, Ramon, and Tallulah watched as they sat against the elevated porch to escape the heat.

The jump head start was a fail. So was the slow shimmy done by Dapper. Richarlyson nearly got there by brute forcing his way up, but his arms were much too weak to make it to the last stretch. “OH! Nearly there!” Chayanne shouted, flinging his arms in the air when the younger boy slid down with scraped palms. 

“Cuidado Richas!” Pac shouted.

“I think it’s strange, but you underestimate them,” Fit remarked, pointing to Phil’s two hatchlings and retreating into the home. The two by the door followed the man’s gaze back to the kids. “Chayanne!” Phil’s back tensed at the sight, but Pac was quick to quell his fear with a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Looking ahead were the eldest boys, Chayanne and Dapper suddenly now holding up Tallulah, with foreheads glistening with sweat and shaking legs, and on Tallulah’s shoulders was a wavering Richarlyson. “Almost.. Hhh.. A little left!- A LITTLE!!!” Ramon shouted some distance away from the porch.

The girl underestimated how far she could lean left, and as they approached the speed of toppling over, Richas stretched an arm and held the edge of the porch roof. Philza and Pac held onto their hats and belt buckles while watching in anticipation. It gave the two boys at the bottom enough time to redistribute Tallulah’s weight and return to stability. 

From there, the shortest boy only had to hop twice to push the ball, it rolled down the porch and onto the sand. 

“Good job kids!” A chirpy, but nasally, voice called from the distance. It was Bad, Dapper’s father. He held the tallest stature on the mesa, wore long hooded drapes, and adorned himself with jewelry and accessories – ranging from pure gold to goat horns, and polished bones. Every kid on the mesa’s fears about Bad dissipated the minute they were properly introduced to the soft-spoken man. He had unrelenting patience and kindness, occasionally snappy with responses but good towards the children.

The kids all ran towards Bad to give him a well-deserved hug to celebrate their victory. After the excitement of their master plan reached its high and fell, Chayanne bravely noted the main street lacked shade to keep them cool while playing. It was fun for a while, but the sun was unforgiving. “How abouuut.. We go see Sunny!” Bad said in excitement, the kids exchanged puzzled looks while walking back to the house with the man. 

“What? Bagi said she was here! Didn’t you guys hear?” Bad barked back at the two men. “Oh, we saw… and heard,” Pac let out a shuttered breath. The blond agreed in a pitiful glance back at their tall neighbor. “They’re inside,” Philza said, reluctantly opening the door to let the small crowd in. The girl’s tantrum had seemingly subsided, what could go wrong? 

Bad walked in first with Pac coming in soon after, and before Richas and Chayanne could march in, Phil swiftly held his arm in front of them. “Ah-uh! Nope, feet.” All five children looked down and realized their mistake. The dust was up to their ankles. 

“Oh come on!” “Ahh!!!” “Fine..” “NOOOO!!”

The five dragged their feet around the side of the porch and to the side alley. It was less of an alley and more of a narrow opening between buildings that shared a hand water pump, leading up to it was a raised stone basin with a wide drain in the middle.

“ Meus pais never make me clean my feet inside…” Richas grumbled, sitting on the raised edge with Tallulah. Ramon lay on the bottom of the basin, staring up at the hung clothesline that stretched between the buildings' top floors.

“Lucky,” Chayanne uttered through grunts, he and Dapper took turns pulling and pushing at the pump. They were the strongest kids on the mesa, seeing as they were the eldest at twelve years old. Ramon was twelve too but did better with gears and cogs than brawns. “Where do you guys think the water comes from?” Richas asked, to which the others paused to think.

Ramon scoffed, “the federation. Obviously.” Richas stuck his tongue out at him as if the answer wasn’t obvious. 

“Then where does the federation get it from?” Tallulah asked, the question lingered in the air. Curious minds turned to excitement in seconds; the pump made a high screech followed by a spurt of water. The boys plus Tallulah ran to gather by the surging water, bringing their feet in together to wash away the day’s antics.

“OW!!” “Move your big meathead!” “Sorry…” “AHH!! Scorpions!” Chayanne pointed to the ground.

“WHERE?!”

The boys erupted into screams as they lunged away from the basin, dozens of long brown beetles sauntered out from the drain and scurried away. Philza and Fit ran out of the house with their hands on their holsters. “What is it?!” “Get inside, NOW!”

They didn’t need to ask twice, each child ran on their toes, scared that for some reason if they tracked sand in the house they’d be left out. Tallulah came in last with a sheepish grin, “Earwigs.” She giggled, holding one of the creatures up to the two men. 

“Lord,” Philza sighed, pushing his pistol back into the holster. Fit hooked a finger into his toolbelt and shook his head, “ ‘the fuck did those things come from?” He asked, watching the creatures crawl from the alleyway and disappear into the cracks of the porch. 

Then the ground shook violently.

The girl yelped. Both men engulfed the girl in their arms and dropped to the ground. Inside, Tubbo, Pac, and Bad huddled the kids together in a similar manner. They’d be surrounded by sand and dust clouds in seconds. When the quake seemingly stopped Phil pushed Tallulah, himself, and Fit inside and slammed the door shut. 

The aftermath lasted longer than the twelve seconds of shaking it started with. They sat with baited breaths for minutes after it subsided, eyeing the windows for signs of anything. “Bad?” The blond man spoke as he slowly raised himself off the floor. “Yeah?” The man responded, letting go of Dapper and warily standing too. He hadn’t realized how tightly he’d been holding the boy, light nail marks were left on his arm.

“Do you hear that?” Phil whispered as he stepped towards the door, his hand clenching the doorknob as he waited for Bad to navigate around the huddled kids. The tall man pressed his ear against the door and nodded. “Yep..” 

There was a deep resounding croak, and bubbling. This wasn’t just any earthquake. Bad locked arms with Phil, and together, they entered the thick fog of dust. 

They walked along the long stretch of porch connecting the town with only an arm's length of vision in front of them.

“Ledge,” Bad warned as he stepped down to the narrow alley. “Thanks,” Phil uttered, he could barely see the outline of his sandal straps. The taller man followed the noise down the alley but they only needed to make it halfway to see what it was.

A dark liquid coated the water pump and basin as if a water balloon full of ooze suddenly popped and splattered on everything in its surroundings. 

“Get back!!” Philza shouted as he pulled himself and consequently bad away from the substance. It was rising and sticking to the bottoms of their shoes, squelching when they lifted their soles off the ground. They hurried back to the porch and scraped the odd substance against the wood to no avail, “well fuck..” Phil grunted and tossed his saddles where Bad neatly placed his boots. 

“Language…”