Archive of Our Own

There wasn’t much food, sunlight, or even air in District Three; only the constant buzzings of electricity and the hum of blue light and codes that bleed into your eyelids. They were the Districts made for technology, to program it, engineer it, create a firewall that no enemies could breach. They were the foundation of the greatness of the capital, and yet Tubbo could only remember being cold in the streets and looking at the only living thing he saw in a decade at his feet.

A dandelion. 

Tubbo hadn’t seen a tree in five years-not a real one. Not after he had started working and no one needed to see any planet life. Not that anyone was allowed to grow anything-or maybe it was that nothing would grow in their Districts. 

The yellow flower at his feet begged to differ. Somehow growing towards the smogged filled sky as if it defied what laws were put in place to stop it. The concrete was cracked but he could see a leaf poking through. A survivor. 

He pressed an oil stained finger on a delicate petal. It was soft, really soft. Gentle compared to the cold steel he worked on all day, or the click of a keyboard to type away in a code, or the twist of a screw to hold a machine all together; it was tender in a way he never got to be.

He looked at it, smiling at the little rule breaker. A flower blooming in a district of factories, steel and concrete, a place where the air hated anything that breathed and the sky was always clouded.

He liked the flower, he felt as if he could connect with it in some way. So he gave it a little salute and marked the path in his head and promised to visit everyday. To remind himself.

Two weeks later, the flower died. A cold front had come in and dumped a layer of snow everywhere. Tubbo’s apartment didn’t have heat that winter, but he felt colder the day the flower had freezed. Suffered at the unpredictable weather.

Tubbo didn’t think he ever forgot about it, about the only colorful thing that year.

-

WA02 was the head of advertising and publicity of the Capital. Of course, for a peacemaker he wasn’t the face of advertising or announcements, in fact, they were technically only the one who promoted who he was told to. Making sure each image of the popular idol was in the Capital’s liking, their words in the Capital’s approval, speeches or announcements done by their look through first.

They didn’t have the easiest job, constantly moving from one project to another, but it was their job. He didn’t want anything else. They didn’t need anyone else. While other workers or lower ranks tried to make friends (against the strict rules but WA02 didn’t report them, he… didn’t know why.) WA02 was content with what life by the Capital he was given.

But then their simple world had changed, changed on the start of the 48th hunger games.

The speeches were always the same, but WA02 was always at each drawing, to see the new faces, to get the earliest head start. To start peeling away the background on the new competitors and start advertising on who was who. 

It was the only reason why WA02 was allowed to walk by themselves around the Districts and the people gathered. He was walking near the back, observing the crowd with a observant eye before walking back to the-

They crashed on the ground, armor clanking against the cold concrete and a groan before him. 

They opened their eyes and looked at what had knocked him over. A teen, or one at least in his late teens, looked up at them, rubbing at his head. He collapsed into WA02 lap, but didn’t look to mind as he blinked his eyes rapidly. He shook his head, brown locks bouncing at the action and his nose wrinkled as he stared at the grown accusingly before looking at WA02 concerned. 

“Are you okay? Sorry, I wasn’t really looking at where I was going and I know you have to be here but I kinda forgot it was so early and was was working late-” The boy rambled and his blue-green eyes looked vibrant with his ashed pale skin and dark baggy eyes, he looked enchanting. 

And WA02 never thought a thought like that before, and didn’t know why they had. 

The boy seemed to realize who he was talking to, and WA02 expected him to suddenly run away from him like all others did or become cautious, but it looked as if the teen didn’t even care. 

“Oh! I forgot you didn't talk!” He bursted out, the surprise shocked WA02 into a stupor. 

He quickly stood up, brushing his pants that were covered in oil stains and offered a dirty hand to WA02. They looked at the hand, before grabbing it and letting the teen pull him up. He hadn’t realized how strong the teen was actually, nor how short in comparison to them.

But continuing to shock them, the teen then brought up his hand to their face and tilted their mask. They rushed to stop him from taking it off, but he just made sure it was straight again before pulling his hand away. WA02 stared at him through the mask that hid all their features, he wondered what the teen saw in them that no one had ever seen before. 

His chest was beatinging strongly, it had… never done this. This type of flutter, type of…what was it?

“Sorry ‘bout that!” He said with a genuine smile before rushing off into the crowd to line up.

WA02 hand was left open, he didn't even know his name. They scolded themselves about it, it hadn't mattered, had it? Just a… random occurrence. 

Later, WA02 learned the teen’s name, but not the way they wanted to. 

-

Tubbo stared out the window, the smog filled buildings speeding past on the train, the very things he had worked on for the last two years. He continued to stare until there was nothing left to look at, the blinds being pulled by someone, but he didn’t move his gaze.

He had only had his name in the jar three times. He knew someone who had it in for twenty-four times and never was called. It felt as if he would never be called, that it was something that would never happen to him. He had been nat ï ve. So stupid .

He looked down at his hands, they had curled up. He swallowed, he had just seen the last of the place he called home. The place he’d never see again(because what was left there for him?).

He heard his name and looked up, the mentor, the last one to survive the games from their District. He said his name was Aypeirre. 

“Hey, how are you doing?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. 

Tubbo glared at him, “Do you care?”

He was taken aback a moment, blinking rapidly, “Why wouldn’t-”

“We're most likely going to die, you wouldn’t really care if you knew that was going to happen in a week.”

Aypeirre frowned now, crossing his arms as his face became guarded, “Who’s to say I don’t care about anyone who was chosen?”

Tubbo lifted his head, his tone was cold but he felt as if he could cry at the thought, “Because every year you’ll keep seeing the same people die off.”

Aypeirre sighed, shaking his head, looking over to the corner where he had been with the younger girl who had been with him. Beck or something. Tubbo tried not to hear her crying, she had calmed now, nursing a drink. (He had thought he’d cry too, but he just felt empty instead. It’s not like he had anything waiting for him, any close friends that’d care. Somehow that thought made him feel even more empty. A gearless machine.)

“I want you to survive,” He said, voice slightly rough, “But I’m aware of what could happen. I just want to give you your best chance.”

Tubbo looked at him, he had been a victor before Tazercraft had taken over making the games, before they saw how much the new gamemakers had changed it all. He knew that even if there was a chance to survive, it wasn't because of this mentor, he didn’t know what to prepare for them.

Tubbo would find his own way to survive, he always would. He just hoped maybe he wouldn’t get a painful death.

“I’ve seen many like you before,” Aypeirre continued on, “Thinking you're ready to face death in the games- your not .”

Tubbo met Aypeirre’s eyes as he replied, “I guess we’ll see once I’m there.”

Tubbo didn’t talk to him again during the train ride. He looked at the table, at his hands, he wouldn’t get to work on any of his projects again. Or work. His death would be paraded on television for the nation to see, for Panem to take enjoyment out of. 

He curled his fist as he swore he’d live long enough to give them the hell they put him into. 

(He knew how to make loopholes and break the lines set, a yellow flower would be his reminder.)

-

WA02  watched Tubbo from the corner of the room. He had been afraid that he had lost his will to fight. That he would be the one to walk towards the sharp blades instead of fighting to survive. They didn’t know why they were afraid of losing Tubbo, he had only crashed into him (but he had smiled at them, made their chest flutter, had made them feel seen .) so why did he care?

He would die, WA02 had seen a decade of the games in his position, he had seen much and he knew that it had been sixteen years since District Three won, and if Tubbo had already given up, he would lose hope.

But they saw a change, something edging in Tubbo’s expression that made his eyebrows quirk inwards and eyes start to squint as he thought. He straightened his posture, the corner of his lip pulled inwards as if he was biting it.

WA02 liked the image, and wanted to keep it in his head. They didn’t know why, but they saw how he changed, how Tubbo suddenly took on a new thought, a new determination. He wasn’t hopeless, so neither was WA02.

WA02 wanted him to survive, so they would help in any way he could. He knew how to get promotions, how to influence the crowd in Tubbo’s liking. (He was already likable, he was kind, would smile-hardworking from what he mentioned and from what WA02 could find in the work reports, he was.)

They started a list of what to do, he would make sure Tubbo would catch the eyes of some sponsors, (it wasn’t too hard).

Perhaps WA02 could even slip him some notes if they got the chance, he would need it. 

-

Tubbo hated the Capital. He hated the bright lights like the computer screens he stared out at for hours trying to fix a code. Or the air, fresh purifiers in every corner, hidden away, but their use wasted on a factory-less place.

The people wore bright clothing, trying to catch the eyes of anyone near and fake smiles that choked him. The colors brighter than anything Tubbo had ever seen and the softest Tubbo had ever worn(they took away his favorite hoodie, he didn’t think he would be getting it back.)

The food felt fake in his mouth, regardless of how good it tasted or was at every corner. He hadn’t had much fresh food in his District, plants wouldn’t grow so they would rely on the market for it instead. To have enough for everyone, they didn't always have enough.

(There were flowers too, he stared at a garden the first time he saw one. He reached to touch them, but pulled his hand back. A peacemaker had been staring at him, and he rushed away.) Eyes were everywhere, he could see the glint of cameras in the buildings. He wondered if he could ever hack them, but he had never been good at hacking. That had been his friend Fundy. 

He took a breath once he got out of the eyes of the people, he and Becky had been led with Aypeirre to their rooms, they had a whole floor for the three of them. (It was bigger than Tubbo’s apartment building.)

They had been told to rest, the next day would be interviews where they would show their personalities and start training. Apperie has said to smile a lot and pretend to be glad to be in the capital. Tubbo didn’t want to do any of it. He didn’t need sponsors(not many sent supplies, or not at least any to District Three) so he wouldn’t be acting to get any sponsors.

He sighed and decided to not see the room that would be too big and impossible to sleep in, and instead tried to take a walk. He had been stopped by the door by two peacemakers, white ears poked from behind their mask and before their helmets. They blocked his way, he sighed and turned back.

“Don’t wonder,” Aypeirre murmured, walking past Tubbo as he closed the door all the way. “Don’t want to get on their bad side.”

Tubbo scoffed, he wasn’t here to get on anyone’s good side. He had been taken from his home, his only mission was to make the gamemakers' lives as difficult as possible, and that's what he would do.

He might not survive, but he’ll make his name known. Who knows-he might break the game if he can. He was ambitious if nothing else.

When he got to his room, he opened it to find something set on his bed, on the side. Tubbo looked at it, sighing as he knew it was a welcoming card or something stupid-but when he picked it up, he realized it was a handwritten note and was addressed to him. 

‘The interviews want personality, interesting or funny, don’t be plain. Training is good, notice others abilities and their disadvantages.’

He flipped it on its back, it only said, ‘ Do you know flower language?’

Tubbo hummed, tucking the paper between the boards on the bed to hide it. Then paused as he took in the meaning of the note-he didn’t have any sponsors yet, the other Districts hadn’t known he was even picked yet and wouldn’t until tomorrow. Aypeirre was his mentor and if he had anything to say he would already.

This was from someone… else? But who else would want to help him?

Tubbo bit his lip, then looked around. By the large window that looked out on the capital from his room, sitting on the desk innocently, was a flower. A purple-pink petaled flower. The same one Tubbo had looked at before. 

He touched the petals, a smile growing in his face as he felt the softness met his fingertips. He petted the flower for a moment, it was softer than the clothes he wore, he wondered if the Capital people would find that madding. 

Tubbo saw in the desk drawers a pad of paper and a pen with a booklet on flower language. Tubbo opened it up, the flower was a Freesia. It meant Trust.

Tubbo scoffed, trusting someone unknown. He looked at the flower and down to the paper. He wrote a short message, he tucked the paper on the same page as the Freesia. He hoped the secret messenger would find it, he would like some answers. He left it on the desk as a sign, he then took the liberties of a function shower and tried to sleep. 

He dreamed of a garden of his own. 

-

Tubbo was being taken by the stylist, during that time WA02 looked at what Tubbo had put in the flower language book.

‘ Who are you? Why are you helping me?’ He asked. 

WA02 didn’t know how to answer yet, so he didn’t, instead he watched all of the Districts interviews being conducted, seeing the ones worth promoting and those that would be more suitable to certain crowds. They watched with interest once Tubbo approached the stage when his name was called, echoing over the crowd as they hushed and watched the teen enter.

The camera’s zoomed in and WA02 watched breathlessly. Tubbo’s hair has been dyed, the underpart now blonde that made his skin more warm then the pale complexion of before. His eyes looked brighter as he smiled, make-up carefully hiding the bags under his eyes and scraps he had before. A light green was shadowed around his eyes, and his suit was a navy with gears and neon lines on the side. A pair of large goggles sat on his neck, too big and stylish to be used realistically, but the intention was there and the people would know which Districts he was from.

He waved to the crowd, smiling the smile that WA02 felt something swoon in their chest. Tubbo sat across from Jadien, the host of the interviews of the games. Jadien’s blue wings shimmered in the stage lights and she pulled back a hair that had fallen from her bun.

“Hello Tubbo-Underscore! So glad to see you this evening!” Jadien stated as some of the crowd clapped in welcoming. WA02 hoped he would take their advice.

Tubbo chuckled as he rubbed the back of his head, looking nervous as he stated, “I’m glad to make it too-since I almost missed the drawing the other day.”

WA02 felt cold, what was he doing? Why was he trying to bring that up? It would make him seem incompetent and the sponsors won’t-

“Oh?” Jadien asked, eyes narrowing slightly as she readjusted her hand and rested it on her chin to appear as if inviting the story.

“Yeah,” Tubbo said, eyes looking at the crowd as he pulled his hands in front of him and used them to gesture. “So, here I am working on my newest project and tweaking a few of the problems and making sure it runs perfectly-I had been working for about fourteen hours at this point, I mean, who needs sleep?”

The crowd laughed, it was a good statement. In the games, the less sleep you could do, the less you were unconscious for a potent killing. Well done, Tubbo . WA02 felt himself relaxing as they watched. Tubbo was doing well.

“Well I only looked at my clock and saw what time it was,” Tubbo explained, looking sheepish, “And realized the date before I was running out the door. Let me tell you, I don’t think I ran that fast in my life before, but, I guess I might have a new record in the games too.”

The crowd laughed again. 

“Talking about the games,” Jadien stated, leaning back on their chair, “How prepared do you feel?”

“Oh, not at all.” Tubbo admitted with a grin.

WA02 took it back, they were going to have a heart attack. What was Tubbo doing now ?

“And why’s that?” Jadien asked. 

“Well it's the unknown,” Tubbo expressed, but didn’t appear nervous. “I don’t know the area or the players specifically who will be fighting. But once I see who can do what, and once I see the area, I’ll start planning.”

“So you're confident?” Jadien pressed, “In your plans?”

“Everyone needs plans,” Tubbo answered with a shrug, “Besides, I already have my one goal for it.”

“Winning?” Jadien guessed, smiling and looking at the crowd as if it was the easy answer.

“Nah,” Tubbo answered, looking as if he didn’t realize the whole crowd silenced and Jadien paused, confusion displayed plainly on their faces.

Tubbo leaned back in his seat as he smirked, “I’m just here to cause trouble.” then adding a second thought, “And win if I can, I guess.”

“Huh,” Jadien stated, as if not knowing what to say next, WA02 didn’t know what to say either. “Well, Tubbo-underscore, it will be interesting to see you in the games. May the odds be ever in your favor.”

Tubbo grinned, “Then I’ll just have to make the probability in my favor.”

And with that the interview concluded. Tubbo was the top searched for interview after that, his bluntness and charm was already liked by the public and his confidence of his mind was in his favor for investors. 

The words at the end of his interview threw the capital into a mad rush, the saying that would follow Tubbo’s promotion even if WA02 wasn’t in charge of the advertising. 

(No one made a comment to Tubbo’s blanket statement of not wanting to win the game, just wanting causing trouble instead. They didn’t think he truly meant it, but WA02 had already made the connections, already knew that Tubbo was determined enough to know he might not win, but he could cause everyone else grief trying to kill him instead. 

It made them worried, but also knew that maybe there would be a chance for the boy to survive.)

-

Tubbo came back from the interview, scrubbed at his face even when the stylist left, and felt as if the make-up was still imprinted there. He hated it, hated how stuffy the clothes were and felt suffocated in them. How fake it all felt, how each interview that he heard were color coated in lies and smiles no one meant. How they all had such confidence and wanted sponsors. 

Tubbo didn’t care, he wanted his words to hit the Capital. He wanted them to know he wouldn’t go down without a fight. He wanted his words to leave a trail of wariness. Wanted them to know that he wasn’t here to be the king on top of the hill-no, he was here to dig out the base, clip the wires holding it together and plant the virus, make everything break as much as he could. 

Aypeirre said he did good, that the people liked him and things were turning out in his favor. He scrubbed at his face harder until in the mirror his skin went red. Until he could see the dark eye bags staining the ash pale skin that was his own. (The sun felt burning on him when he did feel it, but he bathed in its warmth time and time again.)

He took a deep breath, he stared at himself in the mirror. Eyes meeting his own. He would make the odds in his favor, would make the capital swear that it had picked him. If there was anything he was good at, it was causing problems. 

(He would be the crack in the concrete, the mistype in the code hidden in layers unseen. He would find a break, and use it to tear everything down in his reach.)

He didn’t notice he had a new flower in his room until the lights on the city were shining on it in the artificial light. He crept close and noticed a tiny slip of paper peeking out from the book on his desk. 

He opened the page and saw the note left for him. 

‘ The interview went amazing, you're the most liked in the populace. Keep it up.’

Tubbo snorted, he was only honest, he didn’t care who liked him. He had his own plans.

‘ The banquettes are for investors, anyone who talks to you is interested. Don’t tell anyone your doubts.’

‘ I’m here to help you.

From,

a friend.’

Tubbo frowned, that wasn’t cryptic at all. The page was on the flower that day, a sunflower. Friendship. 

Tubbo hummed, hiding the response where he put the last. He wrote his response and went to bed. He knew tomorrow would be a long day.

-

Tubbo was at training, and would be for the next three days before the games begin. WA02 wished he knew what the games would intel so he could give Tubbo a warning, but they didn’t. (That would be treason, wouldn’t it? Giving a player a heads up? Would be cheating at least, but they didn’t know. They didn’t know why they wanted Tubbo to win so badly. They never felt this way before. Everytime they thought of him, their chest beat faster, they ached to be near him, to talk to him. What was this?

The Federation never prepared them for something like this to happen, but somehow the unknown of it didn’t scare them.)

Tubbo left them a note again, their chest felt light and he was almost afraid to touch it for a moment. Knowing that Tubbo had written it specifically for them. They read it anyway, they didn’t have too much time.

‘ I’ll keep it in mind. If you're a friend, why can’t you give me your name? Or would that be dangerous for you? Either way, I rather have a name to a face. I hope if you don’t mind that I’m using Fred for you right now.’

There was nothing else on the piece of paper. WA02 couldn’t help but have their breath taken away. Peacekeepers didn’t have names. No one did, not even WA01. They weren’t citizens, not people , they were peacekeepers, that's it. But… 

Fred. Fred. Fred. He loved it. It was their own. Something personal. They… they liked it. Fred . WA02 was also… Fred. He was Fred. 

(They couldn't help but think about how Tubbo would say the name, how his lips would pronounce it. He wanted to hear it. Wanted to listen to Tubbo speak to them specifically. Smile at them again.)

They pushed the thought away. They wrote their response, head floating up before trying to tamper it down before getting back to work. 

-

Was it possible to be encouraged by flowers? Tubbo didn’t know, but everytime he came back from training days and stupid dinners with rich people with too much money and no empathy, there would be a new flower sitting on his desk.

Daffodils; meaning resilience.

Magnolia; meaning perseverance.

Celosia; meaning determination.

A new note accompanied each, adding information on sponsors who were interested or tips. A lot of tips mostly. 

Each letter was signed the same, ‘from, Fred’ .

Tubbo hadn’t really thought the name would stick, it was mostly a note to himself, but it seemed that ‘Fred’ had taken a liking to it. So thus, Tubbo addressed each of his notes to Fred. He started to put in some of his feelings as well, some of his doubts or homesickness. (He felt as if he was in a different world completely, he was in a way, but it really felt like it. He missed his cramped apartment, the smoggy skies, the knowledge of his projects that would always be there and not an intimate death soon approaching.)

Fred took all of his worries and would always keep his spirits lifted, would always say, ‘ I believe in you, you're smart and strong, if you put your mind to it, you can survive. I know you can.’ and how was Tubbo meant to respond? Meant to say he didn’t have family waiting for him, didn’t want this comfy life style, didn’t want to have blood on his hands. He wasn’t here to survive , just make trouble. To make the Capital regret . 

But Fred believed in him, encouraged him, and was there for him. Kept bringing flowers that Tubbo would drap his fingers over and relish in the softness and delicacy of. He sighed, trying to push down the small hope that wanted to emerge. That wanted to survive for a person he didn't even know. 

He tried not to think about it, but each looming day was getting harder. 

On their last training day, when they would be judged by ranking, he found a bouquet on his desk. Full of flowers, iris being the biggest with some of the ones he had gotten the day before. It had taken him a full ten minutes to find each one’s meaning. Hope, guidance, trust, determination.

It was a goodbye message for the next day. Tubbo looked at the note.

‘ You’ve done good, just survive. I’ll be waiting for you,

Yours,

Fred.’

It almost mirrored Tubbo’s ‘Yours truly-’ and made him smile before it fell off his face. He had someone waiting for him. Someone wanted him to survive this, not some investor or sponsor who just wanted their bets to be right, but someone who honestly wanted him to win. 

He didn't know how to feel about it. He stared at the piece of paper, he didn’t write a response, just picked the yellow tulip (he wished he could get something better, but it was the only flower in the bouquet that meant gratitude or thanks) and placed it on the book. He hoped Fred got it. 

He went out with Aypeirre and Becky to watch their ratings, knowing the next day they would be sent into the games. Tubbo was first shown, his picture flashed and underneath was a score of six.

(Tubbo was glad, he wasn’t Distinct One, Two, or Four, he was strong but not trained with weapons, but with his mind instead. He was used to being underestimated, it worked in his favor, he knew it would.)

Aypeirre comforted him, but Tubbo was nonplussed. Becky was next, she got a three. She didn’t even act as if she had seen. Aypeirre left to his own room while Tubbo and Becky sat on the couch for a while longer. 

Becky started crying then, big tears dripping off her face. Tubbo looked at her, not knowing how to react. He did what he thought was best, and pulled her into a hug and let her cry on him. 

After a while, she pulled back and looked at him with red rimmed eyes. 

“I’m not going to make it, am I?” She asked, voice wobbly. 

Tubbo chewed on his lip, unable to answer. She sniffed, a few more tears pouring out of her eyes as she continued, “I know my parents are-are going to be sad… I just…”

Tubbo rested his hand on hers, she looked at him, he gave a smile. There weren’t any comforts he could give. He would die just like her and everyone else in the games except for one. She teared again and leaned her head on his shoulder. 

There were no words he could give, not like he had any comforting ones. But he could be with her there, could give her the comforts she needed in the moment and that was the best he could do. 

That night, Tubbo slept as much as he could. He knew it would be the last night he wouldn’t be fearing for his life and wouldn’t be hunted. He tried to sleep.

When he woke up in his room, he saw a dandelion on his desk. Not one of those perfect flowers that had been picked just at the right time and looked like they could be a statue they were so perfect-no, it was hand picked with some dirt still clinging to the stem. 

Tubbo didn’t need to know what the flower meant, he already knew. 

(He would survive this, he decided then, he would, and he’d cross any lines and break any laws to do so; because he was a dandelion in the making.)

-

WA02 was glued to the cameras as the games began. The other B ranks joked about how they were so concentrated this year on the tributes, WA02 didn’t correct them. His gloves still had the smallest imprint of dirt on them. 

They watched as each camera panned over the playersand the arena. It was a swamp, dark and musty. They only had eyes on Tubbo, who looked around the area carefully, eyes tracking the players and possible escape areas. (He wouldn’t go for the middle, WA02 was glad, they saw how much that was a death sentence.)

The countdown began. WA02 prayed Tubbo would make it the first day he needed it. The first was always the bloodiest. Tubbo takes a deep breath, he looks over to the girl from District Three, Beckyamon. She gave him a shaky smile and Tubbo returned it. WA02 knew what they were, goodbyes.

The timer hit zero, Tubbo rushed into the trees, Becky followed his lead. As usual, only a few dared in the middle. The second and first Districts were the only ones that could and had made alliance to survive it, three died trying to get anything, one survived but only grabbed a spear. They were Districts Seven, they hadn’t had any training in it, but grabbed it anyways. They rushed into the forest as quickly as they could. 

Switching through the cameras as they made sure to capture the exciting parts. Tubbo spent a long time getting distance from the others. There were three other teams/alliances made, two more people died in the rest of the day. Beckyamon was one of them. Strangled, by a District Eleven boy. 

Four deaths on the first day, nineteen more to go.

WA02 hands had gripped the table all day, he was glad to have his shift over, but he didn’t know if he could sleep, knowing Tubbo would be in danger the entire time.

-

Tubbo watched the sky from the tree he climbed up. He had been running all day, trying to get separated from the others so he could do his true task. But he would wait and count the numbers. There had been cannons at the start, loud and shocking him unexpectedly. He didn’t count them in time. He heard another one later. 

He watched the sky, seeing pictures being present on the sky. Three went by before he saw Becky. His eyes teared, they both knew it would happen, but he couldn’t stop the grief from seeing it. 

His stomach didn’t hurt as much now, just feeling numb. He didn’t get much sleep that night. 

The next morning Tubbo was cursing everything he knew and he did not keep his mouth quite. He knew too well he was being watched every moment, he just had to figure out how to get into the system.

The gears were clicking, turning in motion, but the action had yet to be produced. Tubbo hummed in thought before mindlessly swiping at another buzzing insect. He was hot and sweaty, his boots were covered in mud and socks were even wet from wading in the water. It was the worst area for any running and Tubbo knew he had to get his distance early because he wasn’t the greatest runner and in this environment he was doomed to get any speed. 

He stepped over another tree. Eyes searching for any helpful fora. He hadn’t gotten anything yet. He was about to duck under a vine before taking in the scales of a snake and backed away wisely. He had run into one of those yesterday and had gotten a scare but had gotten away. He really didn’t want to see a bigger one. 

He took a breath again, leaning against a tree. He was trying to find a trap by the game makers. Other people wouldn’t dare to try, but he knew if he got near the edge of the map, they would try to bat him away. And if they set up a trap or tried to corner him, he could break in. 

But for now, his breath was hot and he was so hot from the humidity he was going to die. He sat on a tree. Pond next to him. He dipped his hands in and put it on the back of his neck. It was nice. He noticed a frog was next to him. Quite fat too. 

The frog looked at him, Tubbo looked at the frog and claimed a friend.

“I’m naming you Tobias,” he stated confidently. 

The frog ribbit. He grinned, “Got any food on ya, Tobias?”

The frog blinked a sad no. Tubbo sighed leaning back on the tree as he thought about some of his plans. He wouldn’t know what he could do until he found some of the game makers traps. Guess he still had further to travel. But he liked his friend. 

He stood up after a bit, Tobias took his time resting and Tubbo was trying to think how realistic it was to keep a pet frog in the games. He was tempted however. 

“Tobias, how do you feel about- TOBIAS NO!”

An ugly creature was behind Tobias and in a splash of a snapping jaw and teeth, Tobias was eaten in front of his eyes. He only realized after the water settled, that he should start running. 

An alligator. A mutated alligator bigger than it should be and with a metal spine already showing modifications to make it a better killer. Its eyes landed on Tubbo and Tubbo ran .

-

Tubbo was on his own, he made no allies before and joined no teams. WA02 knew that it wasn’t good, you needed allies to win, needed some protection from the games, but Tubbo didn’t seem to care, just moved on. One towards the traps and the dangers without a care.

He met with an alligator Tazercraft had made specifically for this year and escaped barely. WA02 breathed a bit better, but he was worried still. Tubbo trekked with confidence in his step, WA02 could tell. Could tell how his eyes scanned the area, he was waiting for something. WA02 just didn’t know what yet.

With an hour until dark, Tubbo found the first trap of the game makers, a simple fire bomb, to keep players on their toes. But once Tubbo dodged it the first time and realized where it was, there was a spark in his eyes. A glint in his confident smile as if he found the perfect piece for his machine, and he had.

WA02 watched as suddenly the camera’s were all pointed at Tubbo, as he maneuvered around the trap and when he came too close tried to hide it away again-but Tubbo james a rock in the closing doors as he james it back open and ripped the exposed wires out. It shut off the trap to their computers. 

It was a whirlwind in the station, people scrabbling around trying to figure out what to stop, but were stopped but the gamer makers themselves. 

They grinned, and replied, “No, let him go. Wait to see what he does-if he tries to get into any exit doors shut him down. Other than that, I want to see what happens.”

And so they did. They watched as Tubbo somehow pried open the hatch by himself and bleeding nails. He was small enough to get to the emergency control panel and with the trap nonfunctional, the crew could do nothing to stop him as he did a short reset and reprogrammed the fire blast to just that, a straight shot fire blast. 

Tubbo grinned like a kid getting to go into a candy shop. WA02 wondered why Tubbo never showed this as one of his talents during the private training days-until he realized that’s what Tubbo had wanted. Tubbo had wanted them all to underestimate him. That he had told WA02 that himself, that he was here for trouble firstly. 

WA02 didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. That Tubbo was causing the problems that could get him killed directly by the game makers, or that he was doing so unexpectedly it might win him the game. 

They didn’t know, so they watched him work half the night away on the short reprogramming. He couldn’t take the fire blast with him, but he could set it up to shoot as long as he pressed the one wire he didn’t twist back together. His own trigger gun. 

He built his own defense trap with the game maker's trap itself. 

WA02 wondered if this is what awe felt like. If this is what the Capital felt every time their heroes or the president walked on stage. He just saw the sharp glint in Tubbo’s eye as his plan was falling into place and his lip bitten between his teeth as he concentrated. 

A true dandelion. 

-

Now that Tubbo had fire(he wasn’t stupid enough to start a campfire, would make his position too easily known, but if he could find another tobias around, he might be able to eat something. His stomach felt as if it was eating its way out of him.) he started to plan instead what he could use it for. 

He woke up to the sun rising. He got a decent few hours of sleep. He had been awake long after the death announcements were made. (Three were gone, he wondered how many died from people and how many didn’t get to escape the alligators like he had. Only seventeen left.)

Regardless, he spent the morning trying to hunt any small animals. He hadn’t ever done it before. He found one marsh rabbit, but got away. He then captured a frog which he valiantly named Toby. He questioned out loud if he named one frog Tubbo if it would be cannibalism to eat him. He said his thanks to Toby and shot him with the fire blast. He burned the front of Toby and cooked enough for him. (He burnt his hand doing it and cursed. It hurt and blistered.)

He ate the smallest meat off of the bone of the frog, it wasn’t much, but it gave him something. He cracked his knuckles as he dinked around the base of the fake tree. He knew that since there was an opening, there might be more of one. He looked for more hidden panels that could pull out, he found one near the back that looked to be to power. Where the floor met the fake tree and a thin wire could barely be seen. 

Tubbo started looking at fallen trees and the floor nearby, it was his plan after all, to cause as much trouble as he could. He hummed a little sound as he searched around and grinned too widely when he found exactly what he wanted. He broke a nail off trying to rip off the panel, but after putting his entire body weight against it, he bent it off. Enough that could reach inside. 

It looked just like a bunch of wires, but it was an opening so he knew it could be accessed from where he was. It was a safer precaution, he knew because that’s what he worked on before for four years.

He pulled up the menu list, trying to see what options were available. There was the fire blast, hornet swarm, bomb explosion, tracing of players, k-

Tracing players? Tubbo paused, almost clicking on it, before he saw the panel open option. He clicked on it, seeing suddenly how many panels could be opened to get into the backgrounds of the games. Of how the game developers literally left ways to get in and out if they wished. Sitting in the palm of his hands. 

And then before he could even process that information, there was a loud lightning strike right above him that made him hit his head on the metal panel out of shock and fried the system dead.

He cursed, then cursed again as he stormed to his feet, kicking the tree. It did nothing but make his toe ache so he turned to a new way to show his frustration. Screaming at the sky. 

“Really?! That’s a low blow! A really, really low blow! Lighting?! In a swamp!? ” he laughed, pulling on his hair as he growled out, “Oh sure-send lightning on me because I outsmarted you!”

The sky rumbled again threateningly. Tubbo flipped his finger up, muttering, “If you didn’t want it to happen why let me you b-”

He stopped, someone was staring at him. They had red hair that was tangled up in a mess and wide eyes that stared at him, in their hand was a branch they had made into a cub with a rock on the end. 

He saw in their stare they would attack, the desperation in it, they came towards the noise, and they would kill whatever they would find. 

Tubbo’s only weapon was too far away, so he ran for it, jumping over the roots as he heard her scrambling to follow him. He cursed repeatedly in his head, he didn’t want to be a murder. He left the people, alliances or partnerships alone-he hadn’t wanted to drag anyone down with his mischievous plans, but it never meant he wanted to kill . 

He dove for the fire blast. He reached his hand in towards his make-shift trigger, and looked back to see the girl jumping with her raised club and swinging it down on him. He clicked his fingers together, she was thrown back into the air and hit a tree on her back. Front completely burned to black. The smell of burnt flesh made Tubbo want to vomit as he sagged against the trap.

He forced himself over to see what he had done. The girl was the same age as him, her chest was bleeding and burning, but Tubbo could see the way her head hit the tree, she wouldn’t be awake ever again. 

He heard the cannon blast in the same second. He bent over and vomited into the bushes. Whatever he had in his stomach was gone, he wiped at his mouth, hands shaking. He cursed the sky once more. 

He had to move before anyone else came. 

-

WA02 watched Tubbo get into the mainframe of their programming, and almost got himself out of the games completely. They had been rushing around the back before sending a lightning strike purposely on the tree and fry the system and all the traps around it. They could rebut it all within the hour and get back what Tubbo had done, all except the fire blaster, which would remain offline.

Tubbo realized this after the District Eight’s girl tried to club him. (WA02 hadn’t felt their heart beating so fast before. They had thought it would melt out of his chest when Tubbo almost died. When he almost had to watch it happen. It didn't. But it didn't make the anxiety in their chest pull back.)

Tubbo moved on from the area. He found another space, opening the spike floor. He had dodged it and then had the bright idea to try and get in the hole . They all had shut down that idea for the trouble maker. They sent the spikes up in the air, which started Tubbo who had been balancing on them and then kicked out onto the marsh grounds instead. He huffed when the panel closed as fast and onto the hidden panel a lightning strike hit. 

Tubbo didn’t even look concerned at it, just looked at it with a bored expression as if it didn’t matter what he was doing. He ranted a little bit more about if you set up traps you should be prepared for people to mess with them. 

He was giving the game runners a migraine and the camera crew and viewers the most entertaining time in the last decade. A competitor who wasn’t focused on surviving or killing, but on breaking the laws of the games? Trying to use the game maker’s traps against them? A fantastic tale to be enthralled in. (It was WA02 task to make sure it was in the Capital’s favor and that Tubbo wouldn’t generate any rebellions. Which was already a nightmare to work on. They were almost glad he didn’t show this skill in the training, it wouldn’t give the game makers too much time to Tubbo-proof the arena.)

But as the day continued, the game runners managed to take out panel movement from inside the games. After thirteen hours, the stress of Tubbo escaping wore off, but WA02 knew that if Tubbo was trapped there, he would find other ways to make problems. He was determined like that.

(He hoped his first kill wouldn’t disencourage him too much. He was more than happy when he came up with the idea and that he could use it later. The first kill was always the hardest, WA02 would make sure Tubbo didn’t face it alone.)

At the end of the day, Tubbo took down another trap that shot poison darts. He was able to dismantle it the same way of the fire blaster and reprogram it accordingly. WA02 could breath that he was settled down for the night. 

The only thing that hadn’t happened because of Tubbo that day, was the meeting of two groups that ended in a full out battle. 

One team of five and another of three met and fought. It didn’t help that it was near a pond of two alligators and two boys wrestled themselves into the water and were dragged down by the beast. The team of three was completely taken out and one dead from the fight from the team of five. The alligators chased off the people left over.

Six dead in a day, eleven were still alive. If the cycle continued, it might be the third shortest game. The calling time for those dead were approaching and WA02 only had a small window to do what he needed to.

-

Tubbo was sitting up in his tree, watching the images flicker by. Six, six dead. And one was because of him. He wanted to throw up again, but he didn't have anything in his stomach. He wanted to cuss again, scream at the sky, yell about their ‘entertainment’ when he had to kill someone he didn’t want to.

But he didn’t. Because then someone else might come, and he didn't want that to happen. Didn’t want to think about what he might have to do. (He had said he would survive, that Fred would be waiting-but would he? Who would want a murder? He could survive, he knew he could if he really put his mind to it, but did he? Does he want to live knowing he lived through this? That other would go through it again. That he survived while twenty-three others would not…did he want that?)

He swallowed and pulled his knees up to his chest, before his eye caught something dropping from the sky to  where he was in the low hanging tree. He stood up and scrambled to the highest branch to pull the packet close to his chest. He frowned at it, slowly opening it, a knife stared up at him, thick and long. 

A note was on top, ‘ Don’t be afraid to get bloody.’ the note read. Tubbo wanted to chuck it as far as he could, tell them what he really thought. As if they could do what he was right now. But before he could act on any of his impulses, he noted something tucked neatly in the bottom of the box. 

He uncured the paper and couldn’t stop a smile from spreading onto his cheeks. 

‘ Dear Tubbo,

You're doing so well-surprising a lot of people too! I saw that someone was going to send you something and hid my letter with it. I’m sorry I couldn’t get a flower, but I hope you understand.

I know what happened today, I know that you never wanted to do that. You were just defending yourself, but I know you're feeling guilty about it, because you're a good person. I know that to survive this you're going to have to do the same, and I believe that you can do it. These people won’t hesitate to kill you, so please, survive. For if nothing else, survive for me.

I’m rooting for you, I hope after this all, maybe we can officially meet. Your resilience is awing Tubbo, please keep going, you make the world a better place. 

From yours,

Fred’

Tubbo pressed the letter to his chest; it was a comfort. A piece of Fred himself in the words. A type of hope for someone you only deeply care about. It was a prayer from a farmer desperate for rain, a last goodbye in the hopes of a hello for the next time. 

Fred stated he understood, even if he was changed by this all, someone wanted him back. Someone was waiting for Tubbo, and Tubbo… didn't know how to feel about that. Only thinking that maybe, he could do this. Could put his morals to the test for them, for a person who wanted him to keep living on. 

He tucked the small piece of paper in his boots. He knew it wouldn’t survive, but it was the safest place for it without affecting him. He helped the knife as he fell asleep, hoping he’d never have to use it. 

-

WA02 watched as a new morning approached the arena. He had stayed later to make sure the camera’s were switched when Tubbo read his letter. But they waited until it was far enough to be safe to check back without anyone knowing. Tubbo looked more content then he had before. Tubbo had taken the knife, it was as much of a reassurance as any he would ever get. 

The next day, Tubbo got into their system again and the tree was struck by lightning. Tubbo wasn’t too happy with the same treatment and complained loudly that the ‘panels had been removed so what else was there that he couldn’t get into if he could?’

Of course that statement alone led to a long moment of silence from Tazercraft as they thought of an appropriate answer. WA02 didn’t keep up with what they decided. He watched as the group of three  started to migrate towards the lighting strike. WA02 started to panic at the thought of Tubbo being targeted because of the lightning. 

They started to get closer within the hour, Tubbo hadn’t moved for some time, trying to get something to eat instead. But Tubbo must have heard the roar of the alligator and the frightened yell of the group when they were attacked by the wild life. He rushed off right after that.

-

Lighting again, once he opened up a panel with his knife (the point was very useful and his liked his fingernails thank you.) but once he opened the control list and clicked on tracking the players (which gave him a needed connection point, he blamed the game makers for changing it because that’s what the lighting strike that morning had been about.) but was looking through the list again. 

Huh, flooding, he could cause a flood if he wanted to. Rise the water levels of the ponds. He wondered if that would let the alligators out and then everyone would be dead. He had tried to see if he could create a smaller gap with the trees so if anyone had come through they would literally be walking into the line of fire.

(This time he found a shooting bomber. It wasn’t as precise as the fire blast but would work as a defense while Tubbo tried to figure out what sort of ‘tracking’ the system meant.)

He started to get some rock formation to create a sort of slope where someone would have to walk. If he got this setup then he could figure out how to connect to the tracking of each player.

Then the lighting went to his system again. Tubbo huffed, throwing his hands up. He marched to his feet as he yelled, “Seriously? Really? You're punishing me for making a trap? A trap that you define as ‘too easily made’ by the system you created?! What? Am I not entertaining enough? Not dying as I make a new trap because I’m trying not to die and use what’s so easily available? I’m not hearing a no!”

The bastards sent a third lighting strike near his feet, he leapt for a moment before rolling his eyes at the antics. He knew they wouldn’t strike him, that would be too cheap. Not entertaining enough for the populace. He wouldn’t be bullied into their games.

“Oh no, not another lighting strike, I’m shaking in my wet soggy boots,” Tubbo snarked, setting his hands on his hips. He glared at the sky, he could’ve sworn it glared back.

“You know I’m doing good and you're just being annoying about it,” Tubbo rambled. “If you think you can do better, why don’t you get in here and try it.”

When there was no thunder or rumble, Tubbo took it as a sign as an argument won. But it didn’t help, he knew that someone would want to investigate the lighting, that’s what apparently kept happening. He stayed by his little contraption bomb thrower, thankful that he had an hour on the back power for it before it completely reset and was useless.

During that time Tubbo kept running through the options in his head. He needed to hook up the tracking system, by how? How were they tracking the players? By their suits? But that was too easily ruined, shoes could be taken off as well…

Surgeries? Tubbo had gone under right before the games, everyone had. He thought it was to make it seem like they were really in the environment they were in and not some recreation that game developers spent a year perfecting.

But it would make sense. How could you track twenty-four players efficiently? Constant monitoring made sense, but tracking through camera’s alone wasn’t the easiest and Tubbo knew they were lying everywhere, it would be too easy to get lost in the system. But if they were tracked individually...

So that’s how he would hook up to the system. He could literally see how the others were moving and staying without having to look or engage. He started feeling around his body for any type of scar, padding or lump he hadn’t noticed before.

After patting himself down, he found it on his arm. Right in the center of his left forearm was a small lump. Small enough that if he hooked up it would just be one wire, given if he could make sure he didn’t electrocute himself. But it was there, his answer. 

He knew he wouldn’t like what he had to do.

Someone tried to sneak up on him, he ducked under their strike and led them into a clear shot. Then Tubbo dove for his contraption and fired. It felt too much like the first time. They were still alive, but suffering. So Tubbo took his knife and ended it.

HIs hands wouldn’t stop shaking. They were bloody. He stripped a connecting wire and went off to search for another trap. It didn’t take long and it was easier to disarm each time. He wondered if the game makers were trying to make it easier on him, trying to gauge his goals.

Little did they realize it was to make their lives as difficult as possible. Or break into as much as he could to scare them into realizing they didn’t have as much control as they pretend to have.

He opened up the tree that would connect him to the system again. He didn't try to create any traps this time, he was worried that they would realize lighting wouldn’t work anymore. So he stripped the ends of his wire, made sure there was a way to hotwire into the framework so the system would connect directly into the tracking system. 

Tubbo took a deep breath and with his knife and a stick between his fingers, cut into his arm. It was quick, bloody and trying to connect a wire to a tracking pad without any tools was more trouble than anything was worth, but he got into the system.

He stared at the map.

There were only nine players left, including him. A group of two were huddled west, four were near the middle, Tubbo had to guess it was the Districts 1 and 2, and three were spread out near south, the closest near Tubbo but still a distance away. Tubbo watched the dots move as the night got darker.

The group of two were moving wildly for a few moments before they were still completely. The cannons went off, the trackers were taken off the map. Tubbo felt sick. He attempted to see if he could disable the tracking completely, on his end and the game maker's side.

When he tried, he found the newest punishment they had decided to give him.

-

WA02 watched as Tubbo made more distance and left a trail of pried open metal panels and self-wired weapons in his wake. Watched another death and Tubbo bloodied his hands for the first time. Noticed how his eyes dulled and he looked different, changed again.

Heard the game runners mutter curses when they realized almost striking Tubbo wasn’t a working strategy. Tubbo didn’t care, he kept grinning and edging them on. Showing he wasn’t going to be broken in, that he was trouble for a reason. WA02 found it endearing.

The group of five that now was a group of two, losing one member to an argument (Who followed the lightning trails and thought he could beat Tubbo) had made their camp and found too late that a few alligators were in their drinking water that they hadn’t seen. The area hadn’t been in their favor and they had been trapped and corner. They were killed swiftly.

Three down in a day, it was making itself known that this would be a quicker game with the making of a hard-to-navigate environment and hostile and violent creatures and players, but now the time was ticking until the end. 

And then Tubbo had been clawing into his arm as they watched and hooked himself into the system manually and saw every position of the players. The game makers were grinning widely and allowed him to continue. It was only when Tubbo started to try and scramble every tracker’s signal to their systems, they had to take charge.

They didn’t use lighting again, rather something cleverer and far more vulnerable in the games.

They blinded him. 

Sending the right pulse to the tracker in his arm(they had made sure it wasn’t just a tracker in each player, WA02 knew because each peacekeeper had their own like it.) and blinded him. They had blinded him.

They could see the moment it happened. The fading of Tubbo’s eyes to a grey in color(they didn’t really, but it looked like it. Like the spark was snuffed out.). Tubbo’s face was pale and his hands started to shake. He looked around, blinking rapidly, realizing he couldn’t see anything. He waved a hand in front of his face. 

He was panicking, a lot. WA02 could tell that this was him scared.

Tubbo tried to play it off, trying to grin that didn’t meet his eyes as he snarked, “Oh so we're blinding now, nice…”

But Tubbo’s eyes kept flickering around the area, hand gripping the knife until his knuckles were white. They kept him blind for ten minutes, during that time they played the death of the characters above. Tubbo didn’t see it for the first time.

WA02 thinks it was the longest ten minutes of Tubbo’s life. They think it was the longest ten minutes of their life, watching Tubbo hold in their panic. Watched as they wondered if he wouldn't ever get his sight back. Watched as Tubbo wondered if he was just made to be a prey to be killed because he almost got what he wanted. 

He was sad to see that regardless in the end, Tubbo didn’t try anything like it again. They had found a way to put him in his place.

-

Tubbo got his sight back, he practically slumped in relief at it. He took some deep breaths to calm himself, that he could see and continue to see. That they didn’t take it permanently. He looked at his arm accusingly, he wanted to rip it out, curse them all, but he didn’t, yet.

He took another needed breath. Feeling as if he was machine overstressed and sparking. Malfunctioning and breaking too easily. He wasn’t meant to be scared, he was meant to know the risk and laugh at it instead. He wasn't meant to have anything tied to him to fight and in the games, and yet there were letters sent to him from a friend who wanted him to survive. 

None of this was meant to happen and yet here he was, with his sight back and thinking how to comply with the game makers and win like they wanted so badly. He wondered how he could do it and still make it his win then theirs. He didn't have that answer yet.

He didn't see the box sent to him until he noticed that it was tangled in the branches above him and swaying in the wind. He unhooked the wire to the system, wrapped the cord around his arm(it had stopped bleeding now) and started to climb up the tree to reach the box. His arms were shaking from exhaustion and the constant anxiety that had eaten away at him. Once he grabbed it, he didn’t wait to get back on the ground as he opened it up. 

Inside was a simple packet of brain-nuts. Common in Districts Three and were protein cubs that were ‘flavored’ with nuts, one of the cheapest foods to buy. A taste of home, he knew it had been chosen for a reason. The note on top of it read, ‘ Make the finish exciting! ’. Tubbo crumpled up the note, instead digging out the letter from Fred. 

‘ Dear Tubbo,

They restricted more commands from the central system that you keep using, but as long as you don’t try to scramble the signals of the trackers you shouldn’t be punished again. Don’t remove your tracker, they will kill you if you do. They need it for the games, please don’t do that. 

Please keep going, you're so close to surviving. I need to still give you flowers after this, who else will appreciate them like you do?

From yours,

Fred’

Tubbo swallowed, he tucked the note into his other boot(the first one was unreadable from the moisture and disengaging from the water, but it was the knowledge it was there that was enough). He didn’t like the idea of following along with the games, he wouldn’t do it nicely or like they wanted, but he wouldn’t throw away his life. For Fred. He’d do it for Fred. 

He dug into the food and ate it all, his stomach was grateful for it and the constant clawing of it ceased for a moment. He closed his eyes in relief as he fell asleep. Bruised, burned, cut, wet feet that ache, and the knowledge of what he’d have to do to survive, he thought instead of flowers and a friend.

-

WA02 entered the office the next day to chaos, he watched as Tubbo did what he asked. Terrified that Tubbo would make one wrong move and it would be his last. He watched it all, eyes growing wider by the hour. 

-

Tubbo woke up the next morning with a plan. He hooked up to the system, seeing the points where the other people were camped, made a mental note of the locations, and went to the traps. 

He found that he could trigger traps at a distance, after an hour of tinkering around with the code to send the message to the right area systems, Tubbo triggered a flood. It would affect the middle of the map and part of the south, but the increase of water would be sudden, and hopeful, would mean the alligators and snakes would take their opportunity of the water and attack. 

Tubbo hoped it would decrease the player count, he would need it to get out. But once he triggered the response, his world went dark. Tubbo cursed and the freighting fear of the unknown filled him. He gripped his knife in one hand as he planned to wait it out. In the distance, he heard a crashing, booming noise, like thunder rumbling but this wasn’t in the sky. He heard a canon go off, then another. He couldn’t hear the rushing water near him, but something else. 

He only realized a second later, it was trickling water. The area around him was gaining increasing amounts of water, was it going to flood too -?!

“Shi-”Tubbo hissed, blindly fumbling at his arm to pull out the wire. He wasn’t going to be electrocuted after everything. He got it out as he made sure his knife was secured at his side. 

He listened to the water, trying to gauge if it would become a full flood in his area, or just increase slowly. He guessed it wouldn’t be fair if only half of the map got flooded and he got off scott-free. He heard a cannon go off. 

The water touched his boots, he listened intently. There was a humming, Tubbo could hear it. He didn’t know what it was, he could look back and forth, but the world was still dark. He pulled out his knife.

A splash of water was all he got as a warning before teeth were buried into his leg and dragging him. He screamed at the pain, knife stabbing at the leg-holder. The beast growled but didn't let go. He couldn’t pry the teeth apart, and his hands grappled at the scaly front of the alligator.

His knife was stuck in something, and it wasn’t the scales. Tubbo pulled back on it, trying to release the knife as he realized it was caught in metal. Metal?

Then the next thing he knew as he was under water. Breath was stolen from him as he couldn’t breath and bubbles brushed his face mockingly. He tried to free his leg again but it was hopeless, he stabbed with his knife again. The teeth spammed on his leg and released and the knife, still locked in his grip, was pulled out.

Tubbo kicked fitfully to the surface. When his head broke the water he breathed the wonderful air and started swimming in a direction. No idea if it was deeper into the water or to the shore, or if there was another alligator waiting for him to pull him under again. 

Luck was on his side as he felt the marsh under his legs as he scrambled up onto the ground and got a good way from the water. He was shaking, cold and officially completely wet. He took a grateful gasp of the air, paying close attention to the sounds around him, for another attack.

Another minute, and he got his sight back. Saw that the water wasn’t even that big, a pond that just was slightly bigger then it had been before. Tubbo made careful steps away from it, the knife still firm in his grasp. 

He couldn’t check on how many people were left, not being completely wet still. He took a much needed breath. Still looking at the water with suspension. He knew he felt metal on the alligator, he could’ve even swore he had seen a metal spine of them-so what did that mean?

If he was a game maker, and he had trackers on each and every player-what would he put on a rogue animal? Wouldn’t it make sense to track them? Be able to have some type of control on them-make sure once the gamers were over it wouldn't attack again or if needed to attack on purpose?

It would make sense, for the alligators to have something on them that would allow that, and with clear metal on their skin wouldn’t be hard to…

Tubbo was creating a plan, a plan he didn’t like, but a plan nonetheless. 

-

The flood Tubbo caused killed two, meaning only five were left and only one could survive until the next day. Tubbo had barely survived the attack of the mutated alligator, and now he waded in the water with his bleeding leg and determination written on his face. 

It wasn’t a good sign for anyone. 

The bait worked, and the alligator attacked him. Tubbo managed to get on the back of the alligator, bleeding and stabbing the alligator, but not to kill. Instead he was focusing on the plates that covered the wiring and the system's controls. The very essences that made the wild creatures controllable.

The game runners didn’t even try to stop it, the gamer maker just smiled as they watched Tubbo snap open the metal casing with blooded hands and get into the system. After that, things went quickly. 

Tubbo got an alligator that listened to him. He was able to get it to be peaceful to him, and hooking himself up to the central system once again, was able to lead the alligator to the last survivors.

Indirectly, Tubbo reprogramed traps and the creatures of the games and had a kill of eight, the second highest kill number. He also made the newest record for the quickest hunger games. 

After, the gamer runners were already setting up programs so that nothing Tubbo did would ever happen again. But regardless, Tubbo won, he survived, and he broke as much of the game as he could to get there.

WA02 would have laughed at how Tubbo it was.

-

He had done it, he had won.

That was the only thing circling around Tubbo’s head while the doctors ran around him. Poking him with needles and rubbing things off his feet. He had actually won.

They poked him with something that made him fall asleep, he hadn’t had time to tell the nurses that he needed to wait for Fred to arrive, that he would come for Tubbo. But when he awakened, Fred wasn’t there waiting for him. 

Aypreirre congratulated him, giving him a hug when he didn’t meet his gaze. He talked all while Tubbo was being pampered for the celebration in his honor. The party all the rich sponsors wanted to throw as their investment paid off. 

Tubbo felt like a machine cramped into a casing that was too small. Wires shoved into the corners and knotted up, gears hitting the side and sparks sizzling off the motherboard. He didn’t think he could do this, he did it anyway.

He had a speech, he didn't remember it, nor what he said or probably stumbled over his words or acted odd, just that the lights were too bright to see the people and he was glad. That he was off the stage and sponsors were talking to him and he smiled and nodded, trying to just through the rest of the day.

He finally got out of one conversation before he slipped into another with a bald man. He smiled and held out his hand for Tubbo to take. 

“Hey there, I’m Fit.” He introduced with a smile.

Tubbo blinked a few times as he stated, “I remember you-your a winner from a few years ago, don't you?”

Fit shrugged, “I am, but so are you. So how are you liking the party so far?”

Tubbo was grateful for the subject switch because the last thing he wanted to talk about was how ‘grateful’ he was for winning and all the support he got for it. Or whatever, he just wanted to sleep. He wanted to forget. (He wanted a flower, a letter, anything .)

“Too loud and too bright-I just want to sleep.” Tubbo grumbled. 

Fit laughed, “I can feel that-don’t worry, just make it a few hours here and you’ll have the next three days to sleep as much as you want.”

“I'd rather have a whole week,” Tubbo bemoaned. “Just me, my apartment and my bed.”

“Well I’ll make sure the others won’t bother them in your own room,” Fit said.

Tubbo freezed, looking at Fit as he said slowly, “What do you mean?”

“Your room? You know, in the complex where all the victors live?”

“What?” Tubbo asked airly, feeling as if the room was spinning.

“Have you not heard?” Fix asked before explaining, softening his tone, “Well, a year after my win, they made a place for all the victors to stay. In the capital. A way to keep the ‘community’ of the Districts with their winners still allowed to vacation back if they have family. They do a lot of promotion with us, but mostly it’s alright in the area. Everyone’s nice and I think you’ll be okay-”

“I can’t go home?” Tubbo questioned. 

Fix hestated to long and Tubbo knew his answer. 

That wasn’t what was meant to happen. Tubbo was meant to be able to leave, able to get out of this mess and go back to his one room apartment with the squeaky door and broken lights. To work on his projects until he forgot what day it was and maybe one day get a plant that would become a really pretty flower. 

He was meant to go home.

Now it looks like he'll never get there. Typically, he never got what he wanted. 

“Oh hey, Fit! Oh hello, Tubbo! How are you guys doing?” A new voice asked, sneaking in when Tubbo had been quiet and Fits face and turned concerned. 

Tubbo looked up to the person, they had black hair and tan skin that looked darker with the bright blue suit they wore. Their leg stood out the most, it was a prospect that looked to be some type of metal sculpture that moved just like a leg. 

(Tubbo noticed that Fit turned to smile at the newcomer and his metal hand poked out from the suit he wore too.)

“This is Pac, he’s an escort for District Six,” FIt introduced. 

“Yup!” Pac said, then brightened as he turned to Tubbo and started speaking about things Tubbo started to hate talking about, “I loved what you did in the games! I was a game designer myself and the way you turned the traps into your own weapons? Ingesius! I don’t know how you did it but it took braver and smarts-gee, I think you might be the-”

“Thanks,” Tubbo thinks he said to make the man stop talking, Fit looked uncomfortable too, a small grimace on his face that Pac didn't seem to notice in time. 

“No problem!” Pac replied happily. “Do you think you’ll enjoy staying in the Capital? I know I do, I visit the victor's place a lot too, so we can chat!”

If they talked about his game he would strangle the man with no question, perhaps that's what he would try next. See if he could hack into the cameras, nah, he wasn’t a hacker, he’d just break them. Why not murder, I mean if it got him back home would it help? No they’d just kill him. He wanted to go back home why was that so hard-

“Is there anything you’ll miss from your Districts?” Pac asked genuinely, “I can go to any District since of my escort status-I could get some things for you if you need.”

“I…” It threw Tubbo off that Pac was asking so, face genuine in his question and looking for a request. “No, no it’s alright. The only things I will miss are my projects.”

“Ah,” Pac rubbed his head, “I’m not much with technology on the machinal side so I wouldn’t be able to help you much-but if there's anything you need, give me a call!”

“Oh, so he can give you a call whenever I'm still blocked?” Fit asked, side eyeing Tubbo. 

“That was two days ago and only for ten minutes!” Pac retorted. 

“Broken trust is hard to mend,” Fit responded.

Tubbo eased out of the conversation, making a note in his head that he liked Fit. 

He rushed over to the drinks, wondering which one who get him far enough from this place or keep him on his toes from the silver tongues rich c-

Tubbo side-stepped from a hybrid and reached for a drink before the hybrid turned on him with flashing bright emerald eyes and froze him to the spot. He knew who this was, he knew the Angel of Death .

He smiled, chuckling, “Hello mate! You must be Tubbo, it’s good to meet you.”

“I, uh, yeah.” Tubbo stuttered. He thought of how many ways he could be killed right now. He knew he wasn’t in the games, but standing next to the tied-highest killer of the games felt like he was about to die in some way.

Or maybe it was the adrenaline of knowing he would be sleeping in the same building as him and not wanting to piss him off. 

The man smiled, his earrings were long as he looked over his shoulder before giving a comforting look that Tubbo didn't possible on the Angel of Death. “You can call me Phil, were you looking for a drink?”

“Uh, yes.” Tubbo looked at the various types and wondered why none of them looked like ones he’d had seen at home. He glanced back at Phil, almost shy of asking the question, “Do you know which are…?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” Phil snapped his fingers as he pointed to a few, “The green their gets you high really fast, the purple taste weird and for a few hours you won't know what your feet are doing, the yellow is just a strong alcoholic drink with a fruity aftertaste, pink will make you wired for six hours-”

Tubbo picked up the pink glass, “Will it keep me awake?”

Phil nodded, “Best one to get you through the night if you need that mate,”

“Thanks,” Tubbo replied and downed it all. It wasn’t as bad as he thought, more… salty then he would’ve assumed. 

Tubbo glanced at Phil’s dark wings, wondering how he maneuvers in the crowd well. His thoughts were cut short before he could ask Phil about it. A man with bright green hair and a sharp grin slid his arm over Phil’s shoulders(mindful of the wings as if he had done it often enough) and glared at Tubbo.

“What are you doing Philza? Talking to our rival? The one who almost outdid us?” He asked. 

Etoiles. The Hunter . Tied with the Angel of Death for nine kills. (All by their own hands, Tubbo wondered how they got the blood out, he only could see the two tributes he had done himself and felt sick everytime. He didn’t know why they clarified the flood and alligators on his own ‘score’ but he didn't care.)

“Well, I, um, I have to go talk with the sponsors-thanks for the drink, Phil.” Tubbo said quickly before rushing off. Not spending any more time than he had to. HIs hands felt shaky, he blamed it on the drink.

The rest of the night went smoothly, Tubbo talked until his mouth felt as if it could fall off and couldn’t wait until Aypeirre came up to him with a hand on his back saying he would take him to his room.

Maybe on a different night Tubbo would stare bright eyed at the large building they had come to and wondered why they were so many floors up with some guards at the door, but he didn’t care anymore. He ignored everything until they came to a door and Tubbo walked in and shut in in Aypeirre’s face and leaned against it like he would fall asleep right there. 

He didn’t remember crawling to whatever bed there was, all he remembered was looking around with a careful eye and seeing no flower to greet him. Remembered opening every drawer and any place a letter could hide. When he didn’t find one, he fell asleep on the bed, hoping desperately, everything was just one big nightmare. 

He woke up and it wasn’t.

Tubbo slept for a full eighteen hours before someone got into his room (that didn’t have locks, he’d have to fix that later) and walked up to his bed. 

They opened the curtains as the bald man Tubbo was finding a new hatred for shouted, “Up and adam!”

Tubbo flipped his middle finger out as he pulled his pillow over his head and snuggled more into his blankets. This was a violation. 

Someone lifted his blanket up and Tubbo glared out at Pac who said something serious for once, “You haven’t eaten in two days, we have called an intervention.”

Tubbo thought that someone must have spilled because he hadn’t left his bed or even knew where to get food, He partially blamed Aypierre for the fact, ignoring the part where he basically kicked him out before he could say anything. 

“You said three days,” Tubbo mumbled when Fit looked at him. 

Fit sighed, “You still can have that, but you haven’t eaten anything all day and I know you didn’t eat anything yesterday, we aren’t going to allow you to starve to death.”

Tubbo groaned again, because it seemed easier to have that death than anything else. Pac pulled off the blankets completely, Fit grabbed his arm(it wasn’t harsh but annoying) and Tubbo tried to hit him before Fit swung his arm under his leg and Tubbo was lifted up. 

Tubbo then was completely awake and let out a dignified screech. Fit laughed at him as he wrapped his arms around his neck so as not to be dropped. Pac tagged along besides Fit as they walked down from the loft. Tubbo hadn’t even realized there was a loft or that it was his bedroom. As they came down the stairs, Tubbo noticed three more people who had broken into his room. Phil was in a small kitchen near the back with a kid wearing a yellow sweatshirt as he seemed to be making something. Another kid was running around as he closed the cabinets that were open and pillows thrown astray and put them back into place.

As Fit climbed down the stairs and Tubbo gripped his neck tighter, legs cold from the steel that held them, he gladly gave the visitors a welcome.

“I woke sleeping beauty, did you set the table Ramon?” Fit asked.

The kid that just put the last pillow back on the couch turned and gave a nod to Fit and looked at Tubbo expectantly. Phil looked back from whatever he was doing with a smile as the child next to him was too focused on the task he was doing. 

“Good morning Tubbo,” Phile greeted with a smile, “Well evening for us, but you get the geest.”

Pac smelled the air as he hummed, “Is that Chayanne’s special soup!? Are we having a celebration?”

The kid next to Phil nodded, confirming his name as Chayanne as he said matter of factly, “It’s his first day, he needs something special.”

Tubbo frowned, but Fit let his feet hit the ground. Tubbo stood a moment just looking at the five people who had barged into his apparent room to get him to eat. He looked at the large window in the main room and saw that the sun was setting.

He had more time to sleep, so he could eat later. He attempted to go back up the stairs as Fit tsk and grabbed the back of his t-shirt and held him like a mis-behaving kitten. Tubbo hissed at him like one.

“You need to eat,” Fit reminded. 

“No I don’t,” Tubbo replied uncomfortably, seams digging into his arms as he tried to get Fit to release his grasp on him. 

“You eat and then you can go back to sleep.” Fit offered, hand out.

Tubbo glared at it and said, “Are you going to do this every time I don’t eat?”

Fit smirked as a way of answering and Tubbo rolled his eyes as he shook the hand, muttering he didn’t have a choice before Fit dropped him. Tubbo didn’t expect that and fell backwards until Pac stabilized him and looked over his head as he sat his chin on Tubbo’s hair. 

“Be careful! He’s fragile right now!” Pac scowled Fit.

Fir rolled his eyes as he bickered, “Fragile? I’m more worried about what he can do and what trouble he’ll be causing than thinking he's fragile .” FIt waved his hand at the room, “Man’s already been going through everything to see if he can get into the system again, I’m worried he’ll bring the peacekeepers breaking down our doors.”

Phil sighed from the kitchen as he muttered, “We really don’t need another Celbit incident, that one lasted for months.”

Pac winced at the name, Tubbo could feel it on his head . Tubbo maneuvered himself away from Pac and Fit’s grasp as he stated simply, “Look, I appreciate that you guys are here, but if you're worried about trouble then you should’ve gotten too close because I’m bound to bring it.”

Tubbo wished they would take the warning, because as much as he liked having friends, getting them hurt because of him was worse. He’d do anything to protect the ones he loved, and hurt more than anyone who knew if they were hurt because of him. So it was logical to not try and have bonds, he couldn’t go through with what had happened before.

“But whatever you do,” Ramon was saying, next to Tubbo when he hadn’t realized he had moved, “We also get the punishments. If you do something, we all feel the consequences, that’s why we’re here now, so that they can keep an ‘eye’ on the victors.”

“Right,” Fit added, “So keeping you out of trouble is our main priority. Sorry.”

Fit didn’t look sorry.

“Well as fun as this chat is, the soup is ready,” Chayanne was saying with a gesture. 

They all fumbled onto a table that really wasn’t meant to have six people crowding in on it, but they made it work. The soup was good and once Tubbo started eating, he only realized how hungry he actually was. He wanted more but already knew that eating too much(especially the type of seasoned and flavor of this soup) would make him throw up. He didn’t miss the severing sizes and how he seemed measured to the right amount his body could take. 

The conversion, strangely, was really nice. It wasn’t what all his sponsors or the rich people wanted to talk to him about, it was just a normal conversation. Phil talked about how he was from the Eleventh Districts and had his own garden in his room because he still missed farming. Tubbo asked if it had any flowers in it and he grinned, replying he did, because his daughter loved them. He invited Tubbo over to see them sometimes. Tubbo was surprised he said yes.

Fit was from District Twelve, he and Pac mostly smiled at each other during the conversation and talked a bit with Ramon. Tubbo was happy that at least some of them could make something after the games. He didn't think he would be one of them. 

They left when it got dark, and Tubbo checked the room a second time, disappointed again, and tried to find something to do. He was used to always having a project. But he had nothing to work on so he just stared at the top of his ceiling.

(He hadn’t turned on any lights, he freaked for a moment when it got too dark and he was afraid he was going blind again. That he would lose his sight and something could get him-

He always kept a light on after that. Falling asleep anyways.)

 He woke up to the five of them invading his room again and making him eat. The week continued like it.

Tubbo didn’t leave his room often, there was a community center that most of all the victors stayed in and chatted with one another, Tubbo only went there twice, both times being dragged there for human contact. 

He could see that Fit, Pac, and Phil were worried about him. That they were concerned that he didn’t try anything, just slept all day and ate when needed. He wished he would have explained it, the numbness in his body and how his head didn’t feel attached. 

He wished he knew how to say that he had fought to win for someone, who had promised to wait for him, but when he got back, no one was there. That the glimpses of color in the corners of his vision makes him think that there might be a sign for him, only to realize nothing had been there.

He didn’t have the words, so he never said them.

One of his lights glitched and went dark, the trio found him hunched in a corner hyperventilating. They calmed him, talking him through the episode he’d never thought he had about the dark . (The chip was still there, in his arm. He hadn’t taken it out yet, afraid they’d just put it back. Afraid of more punishments.)

“It’s alright mate,” Phil said next to him. “We all have triggers from the games.”

Tubbo huffed, “Right, like it’s something as simple as the dark .”

“Ten years old scares me,” Phil admitted. 

Tubbo snapped his head up to meet Phil’s eyes, Pac and Fit didn’t look shocked in the slightest. 

“Why?” Tubbo asked, curiosity piqued. 

“His name was Ricky,” Phil said softly, “And he tried to kill me in my sleep, still have the stab mark-but yeah, ever since then, anyone that height makes me wary.”

“What about your kids?”

“It’s a struggle, but I know they would never hurt me. They know they can’t wake me by shaking me, or other triggers I have. With they’ll help, I’ve healed.” Phil explained. Eyes glancing at Tubbo as he then said, “We can only help you heal if you let us.”

And Tubbo had been thinking about that ever since.

It came directly a week after he had won, an invitation.

He had taken it from the peacekeeper who had stood at his door, white cat-like ears twitching as he took the slip of paper. When he shut the door, his fingers traced over the gold inlined work before his mind caught up to the words.

‘ You are invited to spend time with the president’s guest at suite 402, 5pm ’.

No name, no indication of what it meant. Tubbo swallowed, picking at his hoodie he had worn for two days and no wish to escape it. He didn't even know where his clothes were, just that Pac had ripped them off him when he was forced to take a shower after sleeping for five days and was given a different outfit. 

He instead waited, knowing that the constant group of three who came soon, assumed that he was still asleep and needed food and awakening. He knew he just had to wait, but it left him to stale his thoughts, question after question arriving as he wondered what it meant.

(The ache in his chest didn’t subside, it felt as if it would never go away.)

“TUBBO WA-oh, you're up?” Fit asked, voice dropping into concern lighting flash. 

Tubbo waved the piece of paper. Fit’s expression darkened and his body tensed. Pac skirted behind Fit with a frown and Phil pushed Fit to the side. 

“What’s wrong?” Pac asked, looking between him and Fit.

Tubbo walked up to them with the invite, giving it to Pac as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know? I just got this but I don't know what it means-do you?”

Phil looked murderous at the piece of paper, saying something under his breath as Pac winced. Fit was the one who ended up explaining. 

“Well, I can’t say I ever wished you to know about it, but here we are…”

“Explain,” Tubbo said.

Fit sighed, “When someone with enough money and connections, they can request for a time period with certain victors. It’s private, but there's no way to slip out of it once you get an invite.”

“Oh,” Tubbo said stupidly, unsure of what else to say.

Phil scoffed, “Your a kid, you shouldn’t have to deal with it-”

“If you need,” Pac started off quietly as he met Tubbo’s eyes with sympathy, “I have some pills. They’ll make your head feel float, but your memory won’t be too clear on the event and it makes it more bearable to get through.”

Tubbo just nodded, not knowing if he was understanding completely. He didn't want to-not with someone he didn't know! It was… he didn’t… He shivered and pulled his arms up.

“Hey, hey,” Phil was saying, rubbing his arm, “We’ll get you through this. I’ve had my experiences, I can get you through yours.”

“I-I don’t even know what to wear,” Tubbo said numbly.

“I’ll find something,” Fit replied, slipping off.

Phil pulled him into a hug and Tubbo pressed his face into his clothes. Trying to feel safe in his embrace, even if it was a facade. 

Fit brought back something comfortable but showed off his shoulders and tight around the chest. At least the pants were baggy and the sleeves long so he felt like there was a wall between the air and the skin. Tubbo cleaned himself up while Phil tried to get him to eat something. He couldn’t. 

Pac came back with the pill, and Tubbo slipped it into his pocket. He had to leave too soon, he was grateful he had friends to help him. To care for him. Even if he felt as if he didn't have anything else, he trusted them to be there when he got back.

He didn’t know when he thought of them as friends, but when he shut the door with them waiting in his room on the other side, he knew they'd still be there.

It gave him confidence that he survived another thing life threw at him. A crack in the concrete for him to grow.

When he came to the door, two peacekeepers were on either side. No escape then , he thought. He took one last breath, deep and desperate, before he walked into the room.

He took in the large interior, carving and table and bed. He glanced around and found standing off to the side, as if shy, a peacekeeper. He wondered if he was meant to stay and keep whoever had paid for the visit safe, but that all fell apart when he saw what they held.

A dandelion, freshly picked with dirt, still smudges on their gloves.

“Fred?”

-

WA02 had called in every favor he had, weaved through every path he could make, and somehow, they now stood before their first and only friend. Tubbo.

The name on his lips that called to them, the brightening of his eyes when he recognized WA02 without any writing or action, just saw him and knew .

(What was this feeling? The feeling of being seen, appreciated, and cared for? What was it? Why did he want to hold it so close, pull Tubbo into an embrace they had seen others do but never got to himself? What was this?)

They just smiled behind their mask and nodded, the jittery feeling under their skin calmed. 

Tubbo’s face looked like he had seen a miracle happen as his face spread into the widest grin and he launched himself at them. They let themselves be pulled in by Tubbo’s arm, feeling hot by the very touch. 

Tubbo buried his head into his chest and They wrapped their arms around him, feeling like they had taken over the world themselves.

“I-I thought you have left me,” Tubbo mumbled into his chest, He pulled up to look at hem in their face, “You didn’t send any sign or message and I thought-”

They bite their lip, pulling back as they pull out a book to write in, Tubbo patiently waited as he replied, ‘ I’m sorry, I couldn’t get into your room to send a message or trust anyone else. But I made sure we could see eachother like this, it was the only way I could at this time. It took all this week too, I’m sorry you had to wait so long.’

“Oh Fred,” Tubbo said, smiling up at him. “It’s okay, I just thought something happened or you left… Now I’m just glad that you're here. With me.”

Fred nodded. Fred. Fred was him, and he was hearing it from Tubbo’s mouth-it never felt more right .

They pushed the flower into Tubbo’s hands who accepted it with a grin and eyes that shone. His fingers so delicately brushed the petals, callus working hands becoming gentle. 

“What does it mean?” He asked. 

Fred titled his head, ‘ do you not have the flower language book anymore? ’

Tubbo shook his head with a sigh, “I haven’t been able to get out, and all I have is new stuff.”

‘ Would you like me to get you a new one? ’ Fred wrote.

“Of course!” Tubbo immediately said before blushing, “Well-only if you could. I know you probably can’t do much and since I'm labeled ‘trouble’ by everyone I know they won’t let me out of their sight.”

‘ I’ll get what I can, ’ Fred replied, then wrote a response before scratching it out and wrote it again, ‘ Have you been getting into more trouble? You caused a lot of chaos in the games. ’

Tubbo shook his head, “Not… really, not that I’m okay with being watched or that I know I still have a chip in my arm, but I kinda… I haven’t been. But maybe with you here I might be more inclined.”

Fred shook his head, ‘ I don’t want you to get hurt! ’

“Aw king, you don’t gotta worry about that,” Tubbo flashed a wink, “I can be sneaky if I want.”

Fred seriously doubted that, but like the energy Tubbo was presently. (He had been worried when he heard from WB48 that Tubbo hadn’t been doing anything. They knew that Tubbo liked keeping his hands moving, they were afraid that games had broken him-that Fred had indirectly made Tubbo continue in them and couldn’t live with the bloodshed. They had seen some others go through it, they would never want Tubbo to. But he seemed in better spirits now, perhaps if they try hard enough they can get him something to work on. So he wouldn’t start attacking the Capital’s defense in the building or after his own tracker in his arm.)

‘ You won’t hurt yourself? ’ Fed checked.

Tubbo frowned, “You mean the tracker they haven’t removed? Very annoying by the way because I think it caused me to be blind and-oh what you saying?”

‘ All workers have one, as long as you don’t pose a threat to the Capital or president, you won’t be punished by the chips. They kept it in you because of the skills you showed in the games. ’

Tubbo didn’t look afraid at that for some reason and just shrugged, “Glad to know they’re wary of me. Makes it more fun.”

Fred pouted, how did they make Tubbo listen to them and not cause more trouble?

“But,” Tubbo continued saying, “If it puts you in danger or trouble, I won’t cause any problems. I won’t cause any big problems, yet.”

Fred verbally sighed, writing thanks to him. Tubbo smirked, and Fred could see the cog wheels turning in his head. Planning some dramatic and daring escape against the Capital. Hacking into their systems and getting their chips taken out, saving them from the federation. From Fr-WA02’s own creators. Fred could see it, he didn't know if it was because something deep in him wanted it too, or if it was because Tubbo inspired them to be something more than what they had just been told they were. 

Something more than just a gear in the large machine. More than WA02, another number and rank to a faceless peacekeeper who worked in the shadows. 

(He was Fred, Tubbo’s… friend. They were Fred now, and whatever wires that connected him into the Federation's control, to the Capital’s loyalty and to Panem-were now being cut and saturated to something else. To the name they now called their own. To themselves.)

Tubbo hummed happily before nodding his head to the chairs and window, “Want to watch the sunset? Better than standing the whole time.”

Fred nodded and they pulled the chairs in front of the windows. Tubbo kicked his feet up and looked at Fred, cocking his head to the side as he questioned, “How well can you see with that on?”

Fred answered a second later, ‘ Well, just a little darker than without the mask .’

“Why do you wear it?” Tubbo questioned. 

‘ We could be targeted by the people since we do not look the same underneath the mask. ’

“Well yeah, your people too.” Tubbo answered bluntly but Fred was shaking their head. 

‘We aren’t, we were created by the federation for the Capital’s use. I am not a person.’

Tubbo took a moment to read and re-read the sentence again before he said slowly, “Wait, so let me get this straight, you aren’t someone who was hired by the Feds to work for the Capital but is something else? What about the hybrid peacekeepers?”

‘ They are lower ranks, faults of trying to get better results. ’ Fred explained. 

“Whaaat?” Tubbo frowned, “But you're a person! Unless you're a robot?-no you're shaking your head, and we’ve talked and you have personality! I know you're a person, I wonder why they told you otherwise… pretty manipulative if you ask me.”

Fred chewed on his lip, ‘ How do you know I’m a person? ’

Tubbo just laughed, “If you aren’t a robot then you're a person-or a hybrid. Simple.”

‘ A plant? ’

Tubbo looked at them, “A plant? Sorry but plants don’t give me letters and make jokes.”

Fred huffed, but the same feeling was fluttering in their chest. That made their faces heat up when they looked at Tubbo. They wondered if something was wrong with their mask from how hot everything felt all of the sudden.

“Fred?” Tubbo asked when he had been still too long. Hand coming to touch his shoulder with a feather-light touch.

Fred wanted the hand to stay, to feel like it stabilized them. So they did what they wouldn't have dared to do unless their head felt this floaty and their insides fluttering like the wings of the butterflies as they pollinated. They grasped Tubbo’s hand and led it carefully up to their chin, to the edge of their mask.

They weren’t allowed to show their face to any citizen, they weren’t people and didn’t seem to be seen as such. But Tubbo saw something different in them, saw a person when all they had been told was that they weren’t one. 

(If they were a person, like Tubbo said, then these… feelings, were they theirs? The Federation said they would never have these types of emotions, but Fred looked at Tubbo’s face and suddenly realized how wrong the Federation had been. How they’d drop it all, this life, if Tubbo asked.)

He wanted Tubbo to be the only(or first) to see his face. To see Fred’s face.

Tubbo hestated for only a second before he unclasped it from his face and brought down the blank-slate mask. He stared at them a moment before he said, “Oh, you're hot.”

Which led both parties to suddenly look away as their faces burned.

“Sorry, sorry!” Tubbo was saying, “I know you probably don’t think of my that way but your just nice and-apparently really nice to look at- wow, I’m an idiot for speaking sorry you have eyes like the blue lilies and man I’m corny-”

Fred just chuckled, face pulling into a grin that made Tubbo turn even more red when he looked. 

‘It’s okay ,’ Fred wrote, ‘You're very nice to look at too .’

Tubbo read it and then groaned into his hands as he looked like he wanted to melt into the floor. 

‘ And… I like you, I want to be with you. I don’t know what that means yet, but… I like being with you and seeing you smile and giving you gifts. I’d like to keep doing it if that’s alright. ’

Tubbo grew soft at the words as he lightly took Fred’s hands, making sure to watch Fred's face to see if it was okay as he said, “Of course, I’ll always be here for you Fred. Good or bad.”

Fred felt light at the words of a promise together. So they held Tubbo’s hand, promising to remember this moment forever as they watched the sun disappear through the towering skyscrapers and the lights shine on the glass.

Fred wanted this moment to last forever. He looked at Tubbo, seeing the contentment on his face, two people who shouldn't have ever found a bond, yet here they were. Together.

Fred thought that one day he’ll have to give Tubbo a red rose. 

At the thought, Tubbo turned to Fred and grinned, blooming before Fred’s eyes, they wondered if this is what Love felt like.