Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy lay awake in bed hearing struggling and whisper swearing in his living room. Someone was in it. Bet 2000 dollars it was Wilbur. It seems he was trying very hard to sneak into the blonde’s apartment without ‘waking’ him. That was a failure. To be fair, Tommy never went to bed to begin with so that’s a Tommy problem. 

He looked over at the clock. 

[11:50]

Fuck it. Let’s go see what Wilbur’s up to.

Tommy threw his blankets aside and grabbed his slippers because the floor was freezing thank you very much. He snatched a hoodie for the warmth and made his way to the main room. 

Wilbur didn’t seem to have heard Tommy get up seeing how he’s currently invested in looking through Tommy’s kitchen cabinets. Tommy snuck up to him til he was at least 2 feet away before saying:

“What are you doi-“

“AAAAA FUCK!”

Wilbur hit his head on the corner of the cabinet door. Ouch. Now Tommy kinda feels bad.

“Damn it Tommy you scared me!” Wilbur rubbed his head as his eyes watered. The brunette was out of his villain costume but looked suspiciously like a theater kid. Eh. You win some you lose some. And speaking of loss…

“Why are you going through my stuff.”

Wilbur finished wallowing in pain to shoot glares at Tommy. “I’m hungry and I’m here to raid your pantry.”

“You ate it all.”

Yeah, he does this a lot. He comes over when the people over at his place lock the food pantry from him (Tommy thinks he should do the same-) or whenever he wants to watch a documentary but can’t do it around people because he gets too passionate (even on his worst enemies Tommy will never wish for them to experience Wilbur raging about anteaters at midnight).

“There’s no way I ate all the food.”

Tommy shrugged and sat on the edge of the couch. He’s tired, sue him. “I finished my last full-cooked meal today, I was going to shop for groceries tomorrow.”

Wilbur put a hand over his heart and sent Tommy a betrayed look. “I can’t believe this. You didn’t save anything for little o’ me.” 

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Have you seen food prices lately?”

“Might I remind you about our gambling session?”

“Taxes.”

Wilbur raised a brow. “That doesn’t eve-“

Tommy grabbed his throw blanket and threw it over himself.

“If you're done bugging me I’m going back to my coma.”

Wilbur crept up to the Tommy Lump™ and snatched the blanket away, the way people pulled the tablecloth off the table in that one magic trick. Heh. Tommy glared at him.

“W T F man. Not cool.” 

“Let’s go shopping right now! :)” Wilbur said brightly, giving Tommy whiplash on the sudden positive attitude.

Wilbur pushed Tommy off the couch with a ‘hmmf’ and grabbed Tommy by the ankle. He started dragging Tommy to the trap door stairs. 

“C'mon, let’s go buy more food. This way, I can keep a stash of my favorites here so Techno won’t steal all my dark chocolate.”

Tommy kicked Wilbur away with a grumble. “What are you twelve?!”

He got up from the floor and dusted himself off. “At least let me put on some shoes.”

Wilbur lit up as Tommy looked under the couch for his shoes. (What, did you think he was a responsible person? Fuck no, his room looks like a tornado smashed through it.)

“So you’re agreeing to go shopping?”

“If you pay.”

“Deal.”

Tommy slipped on his red converses (yeah bitch. It’s the legendary red converses. Hashtag deal with it-) and grabbed his house keys. 

“Ready when you are.”

Oh yeah, He doesn’t care that he’s in flannel pants and a sweater. People don’t judge at 24/7 stores. Wilbur made for the stairs before Tommy grabbed his arm. 

“Dude. Just use the front door.”

“Oh yeah.”

Tommy guided him out the door and did a small improvised tour as they exited the building.

“That’s the other halls, that one door has a gaping hole in the wall, this is the janky elevator, that door over there is the only other occupied room.”

“Other people live here?” Wilbur questioned. 

“Racoons.”

“Uh.”

Tommy nonchalantly waved him off. “It’s Saul, Alessa, and Anthony. They’re representatives for the Critter Counsel of L’manburg. Sometimes I pass by to hear the meetings that go on in there. Something about ferret Unions and anarchist crows.” Tommy shuddered. “Animal politics are vicious. This one time they asked me to survey different trash disposal methods. It was awful.”

Wilbur gave him one of the ‘I’m questioning your sanity again’ look.  

“Business Racoons?”

Tommy nodded solemnly. “They’re really good at statistics.”

“Ah sure, I’m guessing they taught you how to gamble too,” Wilbur said sarcastically.

“No, Anthony’s brother-in-law Richard the O’possum taught me poker,” Tommy said thoughtfully as he opened the door to the street for Wilbur. Wilbur rolled his eyes. 

“You’re shitting me at this point dude.”

Tommy snorted. “I wish.”

Wilbur bopped him in the back of the head before stopping at some average white SUV car. It looks like any other car. Completely average. Tommy would never have looked twice at it. Stupid fucking car. Wow, he has never been so revolted at an average car before. 

“This is my car.”

It was Wilbur’s car.

“It’s a shit car.”

Wilbur raised an eyebrow. “How would you feel if I told you it’s one of my many cars.”

“Fucking rich Tory.”

“Yeah, I thought so.”

He unlocked the car to get in but Tommy stopped him. 

“If you own like fucking lambos, why would you drive around this white thing?” Tommy said in disbelief.

Wilbur rolled his eyes and slapped the top of the car. “It’s so mundane nobody will suspect anything from it.”

“Touché.”

Wilbur breathed out harshly. “Can I get in now?”

Tommy held up a finger. “One more thing.”

“Fire away.”

Tommy pointed to the top of his apartment. 

“If you drove here but went through the trap door, how the fuck did you get up there.”

“I scaled that shit like Spider-Man.” Wilbur droned deadpan at Tommy. Tommy imagined Wilbur in his tall lanky glory climbing his apartment with his long lanky limbs like a spider.

“Oh fuck no.” Tommy shuddered. “Let’s get this shopping over with.”

The two ducked into the car and put on their seatbelts like sane human beings. Just saying.

Tommy drummed his fingers in his lap while looking around the car. It's a pretty normal car, nothing special. It’s got the same sort of things someone’s car would have: air freshener, random fingerprint smudge, loose fry in between seats. Seemed legit. 

Wilbur turned the keys in the ignition while Tommy watched him suspiciously.

“I never took you for the type to be able to drive.” He said cautiously.

Wilbur glanced over at him for a second before driving off. “I know how to drive idiot. I just prefer roof hopping.”

“Yeah, I bet your license is forged.”

“Shut up. You don’t even have one.”

Tommy looked out the window and the silence stretched for a couple of seconds.

“Wait do you not actually?” Wilbur looked at him to see a reaction on his face. 

“I’ve been kinda busy, and the bus is more convenient.”

Wilbur braked a little too harshly at the stop light. “Dude. You should still get one.”

“I don’t have time to take another class with my schedule.”

Wilbur lit up with his ‘I got a terrible idea’ face. “I can teach you.”

“No fuc-“ he paused. It didn’t sound that bad. Free lessons. Get the fundamentals down before taking a test.

“Would you?” He questioned the brunette. Wilbur nodded excitedly.

“I can teach you all the secrets of the trade my child!”

Tommy cleared his throat. “I’m a legal adult.”

“I’m an illegal criminal. What are you going to do about it?” He teased.

“Cry.”

Wilbur gasped while turning into a huge parking lot of some mall. “If you start crying I will.”

Tommy looked out the window. “Where are we? This isn’t the food market?”

Wilbur patted Tommy on the shoulder and opened the car door. “Your first driving lesson!”

“What.”

Wilbur climbed out of the car and made his way to the passenger side. “Climb over.” He commanded.

Tommy climbed into the driver's seat. YOLO.

“Uh.” He said looking at all the things and levers. It can’t be harder than GTA, right?

Wilbur pointed to the steering wheel.

“You use that to steer.”

Tommy punched him in the arm. “I’m not stupid you know. I’ve played driving video games.”

Wilbur wiped his forehead. “Thank god, for a second I thought you had no social life.”

“Shut up.”

“No. <3”

Tommy pressed the gas a little too aggressively and jerked the car forward. Wilbur flew forward and caught himself on the dashboard.

“Hey! Wait for me to put in my seatbelt idiot!”

Tommy braked over and over again, jerking the car forward like some bull ride while Wilbur tried to put on his seatbelt. He kept missing the slot, like a loser.

“Stop! Moving! around! dumbass-“

Tommy accelerated down the parking lot, hands tight on the steering wheel. He wiggled it around a bit jerking the car around even more. Who knew that steering wheels were more sensitive than in video games?

“CHILD-“

Tommy snickered and swiped Wilbur’s hand around from where he was trying to grab control of the car.

“Damn it stop this car!”

Tommy suddenly ran over a concrete divider, the car bouncing them upwards and startling the two passengers.

They both stopped, Tommy with his foot on the brake and Wilbur frozen in the passenger seat gasping for breath, seatbelt in hand forgotten.

“Dude. That was fucking awesome.” Tommy breathed.

“You’re banned from driving my car,” Wilbur whispered.

Tommy crossed his arms. “Bruh. If you don’t teach me I’ll just have my friend Tubbo teach me. And I’ll have you know he got his license taken away for drifting donuts around the street and driving backward on the freeway.”

Wilbur looked over at Tommy. “Damn, I would love to meet that guy.”

“No.”

Wilbur shrugged. “If you’re going to mess around without following the rules, you’re never going to get your license.”

Tommy rolled his eyes and uncrossed his arms to return them to the steering wheel.

“Jeez, you’re so mean. Excuse me for having a little fun, this is my first time behind a wheel.”

Wilbur fastened his seatbelt quickly when Tommy shifted the car into reverse. “This is strike one,” Wilbur warned, wiggling his finger.

Tommy looked behind him and began backing the car out slowly. See, GTA really can teach you things.  Unlike someone.

“It’s not my fault you’re a terrible teacher.” Tommy snarked.

Wilbur scoffed. “I haven’t even said anything yet.”

“Exactly.”

“Bruh.”

Tommy lined up the car to the mini paths in the parking lot.

“Ok professor,” Tommy said sarcastically, “What now.”

Wilbur perked up and brightened a little at finally being in charge, clearly not hearing the sarcasm.

“Yes! So! You’re going to want to ease into the petal and keep the road lines aligned with your wheel-“

The stuff Wilbur said around the beginning seemed pretty legit and useful, but the more Tommy got used to turning and stopping and simple commands, the more outrageous Wilbur’s lessons began.

“Let’s go try a stoplight!” Wilbur said excitedly.

Tommy shook his head and gripped the steering wheel tighter. 

“Fuck no.”

Wilbur shook the car back and forth trying to reach the driver's seat while Tommy pushed him back to his seat. He doesn’t have to be an experienced driver to know Will’s a terrible co-pilot.

“C’mon! You can stop! You can turn! Stoplights aren’t that difficult! Do I have to explain one to you?”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “I’m not Stupid, man.”

“You kinda are-“

Tommy hit him in the arm. Wilbur dodged the second blow but still winced at what was probably going to bruise soon. 

“Alright alright, calm down!” Wilbur gingerly rubbed the place he was hit. Weakling. How does this man even fight as a villain?

“No traffic lights today.”

Wilbur put his hands up. “Dude all I’m saying is they’re not that hard to understand. Green is go. Red is stop. Yellow means fucking floor that shit because you don’t wanna have to wait.”

Tommy side-eyed him while he moved the car back to the main exit of the mall's parking lot. 

“I get the feeling you never actually got a driver's license and forged one.”

Wilbur winked. With a wink like his, you’d think him to be in a boy band. 

Tommy checked the time on the car's radio [1:27] and opened the car door. 

“Welp, If we’re going to buy food I suggest we head out now before it gets too late.”

Wilbur looked at the time and scoffed. “We have time.” 

Tommy glared at him from outside the car. “You have time. I have school.”

“I thought you’re out.”

“Preparing for new classes.”

“Fucking nerd.”

“I’m going to just be better in life.”

Wilbur switched over to the passenger seat. 

“Fine. Get in loser we’re going shopping.”

Tommy rolled his eyes for the hundredth time that night. He dragged himself into the passenger seat and stretched his legs. His entire body was still tense from all the driving. New experiences and all. Uck.

“Oh god I don’t think I can take much longer listening to you speak,” Tommy groaned. “I hope your janky car can at least play music.”

Before Wilbur can protest, Tommy leans over to turn on the radio. Without warning, the last song playing on it was blasting loudly on the speakers, frightening both of them.

“I-I-I LOVE LITTLE GIRLS THEY MAKE ME FEEL SO-”

Wilbur practically smashed the radio with how quickly he yanked the volume down to zero. He and Tommy stared at the radio in silence for a few seconds.

“Never speak of this again.”

Tommy blinked. “W-was that Oingo Boingo?”

Wilbur put a finger to his lips. “I said never speak of this to another soul for as long as you live.”

Tommy tossed aside Wilbur’s hand. The guy seemed calm but in reality, you could see him shitting his pants, probably afraid to get canceled. L.

“I liked Wierd Science,” Tommy mused while Wilbur sat sulking in the driver's seat silently driving them out of the parking lot.

“…”

“People need more women like Lisa in their life.”

Wilbur side-eyes him. “Stop.”

Tommy rests his hands behind his head. “Never. I’m running on pure spite.”

Wilbur accelerates the car, pressing Tommy to his seat and making him hit his head on the headrest. 

“Oh you mother fucker-“

Wilbur sped down the empty road, possibly going 70 for all Tommy could tell, he was too busy holding on for dear life.

Wilbur smirked a little, regaining his self-confidence by bullying Tommy. Damn. That’s kinda sad.

Wilbur pulled the steering wheel to the side with all his strength, making the car spin to face the side before taking off down the next road just as fast. Tommy’s face pressed against the window of the car door. 

He looked up at the night sky. “A little help?” He glared.

He doesn’t even have a license Lisa!~

Tommy banged his head on the glass. Fucking movie references. Everyone hates him tonight. 

Wilbur reached over and ruffled his hair. “Don’t worry, I’ll buy the biggest bag of Cheeto Puffs money can buy.”

“It’s 2 AM.”

“And that’s exactly why.”

Chapter Text

Wilbur, looking up from phone: Tommy quick

Tommy: what bitch I’m cleaning

Wilbur: do you get your parents Valentine’s Day gifts? Like, is that a thing? Techno is confusing me

Tommy: how the fuck should I know, I’m not the internet!

Wilbur: yeah but you seem like the type to know this shit

Tommy: I don’t even have parents

Wilbur:…fuck I’m so sorry

Tommy, laughing: nah don’t be, I just straight up spawned lol

Wilbur: wha-

Tommy: I know right? It’s called piss poor writing! But don’t worry, I got special spirits working behind the scenes to unlock my backstory.

Wilbur: …

Tommy: they work 24 hours a day and get payed in lore crumbs with the occasional soup but it’s a good deal than other places, I tell you that much *grabs script* 

Tommy: I canonically have grandparents if it makes you feel better. Just one though. Still no parents. Maybe I’m an orphan 

l m a o.

Wilbur: …do you ever scare yourself sometimes?

Tommy: hey people in charge can we make the Queen canon? I want Lizzy to be here. She doesn’t even have to be a person, I just want like a pizza place named after her.

Wilbur: have you ever considered mental help?

Tommy: have you ever considered not being single? 

Wilbur: screw you

Tommy: I just realized I’m immune to “your mom” jokes LETS FUCKING GOOOOO-

Wilbur: Yo Tommy! Ever considered fixing that piss poor attitude of yours?

Tommy: ever considered fixing that hairline of yours?

Wilbur: 

Tommy: oh wait that’s right, not even flex tape can fix that hairline. how’s the view from of there? Did you hit your head on the “clearance 6’ 6” signs too many times?

Wilbur: yOuR sO mEaN :’(

(A/n: pulled out a measuring tape to see how tall 6’ 7 is.  As a 5’ 5 person, I’m scared to ever meet Wilbur or ranboo.)

Tommy: I am the god of chaos, no one can hide from me

Wilbur: I can believe that

Tommy: I could’ve been the actual god but something called lore is keeping me

Wilbur: I don’t know what this lore is but I never seen anything that can keep you from doing what you want 

Tommy: this blows. I’m the god of chaos in so many other universes and here I got to babysit some anime loli child goddess.

Wilbur: 

Wilbur: I have a therapist you know, and I’m more that happy to introduce you to her-

Wilbur: why are you hanging your clothes on the fire escape?

Tommy: it’s called line drying? If you just stick everything into the dryer, it shrinks

Wilbur: didn’t realize you have a woman’s intuition but whatever, the point is you’re making it look like it’s still the 1920s again

Tommy: and? You got a problem with that? It was a good year asshole.

Wilbur: I bought you a mug to replace the one I broke the other day

Tommy: you didn’t have to- why does it say MILF in bold black letters

Wilbur: it stands for Man, I love France

Tommy: I hate France, fuck France, it needs to burn 

Wilbur: I’m just kidding, it stands for man I love frogs-

Tommy: no it’s too late. I will never be able to see this mug again without thinking of France. 

Wilbur: that sounds like a you problem

Tommy: I’m going to chuck it out the window-

Wilbur: NO-

*weeb alert*

Tommy, throwing pillows at Wilbur: ITS JUST MANGAS. THEY ALL LOOK EXACTLY THE SAME. IT DOESNT MATTER WHICH COUNTRY MADE THEM

Wilbur, throwing pillows back at Tommy: THERES A CLEAR DIFFERENCE IN THE CULTURE AND STYLE WHICH YOU MUST RESPECT IF YOUR GOING TO OFF HANDLY COMMENT ON THEM TOMMY

Tommy, yelling: ITS JUST FUCKING CARTOON ANIME PICTURES

Wilbur, yelling back louder: YOU CANT CALL THEM ‘KOREAN MANGAS’ THEY HAVE A NAME-

Wilbur: why do you own a vhs player

Tommy: to confuse Gen Alpha

Wilbur: ok but why

Tommy: fucking skibidi phantom tax I don’t understand what the fuck is a Sigma

Wilbur: HUH.

Tommy: EXACTLY

Tommy: I also bought it at a yard sale before Tubbo so he wouldn’t take it apart. These things are rare.

Tommy: it’s raining.

Wilbur: ok and?

Tommy: thats an Ariana grande song, I’m talking about the rain.

Wilbur: dude what the fuck?

Tommy: rain makes me depressed. I’m going to start singing “what was I made for” if this rain keeps going.

Wilbur: you can’t just let the rain control your mood

Tommy: it’s been so long since I’ve seen the sky. hey Siri, play my Coldplay playlist

Wilbur: ok this isn’t about the rain. Who hurt you so much that you’re listening to Coldplay?

Tommy: AnD iT wAs AlL yElLoW-

Wilbur: that’s it I’m taking you out of this depressing apartment. Enough sulking like a girl.

Tommy: if only I can ask the gods again to make it stop raining. But I can’t because they’re so cruel and mean and bullies. 

Wilbur, deadpan: you’re depressed. Because you asked the gods to make it stop raining and it didn’t stop raining?

Tommy, in tears: and then I stubbed my toe :’<

Wilbur: *drops Tommy on the floor*

Tommy: ok here me out

Wilbur: no

Tommy: why not

Wilbur: because anytime I hear you out you either piss me off, say something I regret ever hearing, or actually convince me.

Tommy: is that not the point?

Wilbur: fine.

Tommy: so I saw a commercial where you put a hat on with lasers and it grows back your hair, I was thinking cause youre so bald you should buy one-

Wilbur, grabs Tommy’s face: you just did all three simultaneously.

Tommy: in your line of work, have you ever used logarithmic equations?

Wilbur: no, can’t say I have

Tommy: so the fact that I got a C- in the test really shouldn’t matter seeing how no one uses them BUT THE FUCKING THING BROUGHT DOWN MY GRADE

Wilbur: oh yeah, I forgot the whole point of the story was you being a tryhard student

Tommy:STRAIGHT As! I WAS A STRAIGHT A STUDENT UNTIL THESE FUCKERS CAME ALONG WITH THEIR STUPID ‘NATURAL LOG’ NO ONE FUCKING CARES.

Wilbur: …let’s go buy you ice cream

Tommy: yey :>

(A/n:HOLY FUCK I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THIS UP TO HERE I NEARLY HAD A HEART ATTACK)

Tommy: if I fist fought Passerine!Tommy would I win?

Night: definitely, yes, 100%. I would even back you up. Trust me you’d do us all a favor

Tommy: …ok?

Night: that fucker is responsible for making us cry. You know how awkward it is to explain why you’re crying while reading a fanfic? In school?!

Tommy: damn. That’s crazy. But what’s even crazier, is the fact I didn’t ask you-

Night: *bitchslaps him into space*

*insert pic of Tommy floating in space*

-Tommyinnit was not the imposter-

Night: pineapple on pizza needs to burn in hell. Whoever invented it needs to be dragged out and shot

Tommy: jokes on you, I’ve never had it so I don’t have an opinion

Night: I will shove it down your throat

Tommy: *chuckles* I’m in danger

Tommy: I bought a giant red button

Wilbur: why.

Tommy: I’m going to place it somewhere and put a sign that says ‘don’t press the red button.’ So when someone inevitably presses it they are full of dissatisfaction because it didn’t do anything.

Wilbur: sometimes I question if I’m really the villain in this story.

Night: I’m considering turning on the censor machine next chapter

Tommy: don’t you dare, that’s my brand

Night: it’s also a lot of swearing. So what if we just…

Tommy: oh my- you just [beep]ing turned it on didn’t you. [BEEEEEEEEP]

Night: I feel like the beeping just makes it more annoying

Tommy: [BEEP] Tuesday [BEEEEEP]’n  and I hope you [BEEEP] [BEEEEEP] pancakes!

Night: never mind, the lack of context makes this funnier

Tommy: [BEEEP]ing salads.

Wilbur: so I accidentally destroyed your YouTube search algorithm

Tommy: what.

Wilbur: it wasn’t my fault! I just clicked this one video of wholesome moments from my favorite show and then next thing you know, I kept getting more clipped moments videos!

Tommy: what sort of videos.

Wilbur: uh “__ being themselves for X amount of minutes”, “__ but context was never an option”, “___ being a dynamic duo for X amount of hours”

Tommy: that’s it I’m clearing my entire history. I don’t even wanna try to fix that.

Wilbur: I couldn’t help myself

Tommy: you were on MY account-

Bonus:

Wilbur: whatcha got there Big Q?

Quackity: Queti

Wilbur: what’s ‘Queti’?

Quackity: ¿Que ti importa?

Wilbur: I get the feeling you insulted me but I don’t understand it so I’m going to pretend you didn’t.

Quackity: that’s it I’m leaving this country. You all suck. CHARLIE! When’s the next flight to Mexican L’manburg?

Wilbur: nah you love us.

(A/n: to my lovely non Spanish speakers, ‘Queti’ is short for ‘Que ti importa’ which translates to ’what does it matter to you?’ It’s the equivalent of saying:

What you up to?

Nonja.

What’s nonja?

None of ya business.

So yeah. Fun. Go try it on everyone you know. Piss them off. Go commit passive aggressive Violence.)

Chapter Text

Three gods in a GC, what will they do?

Death:

Whose schedule is clear for Saturday? I’m thinking we all go out ;)

Lucky:

Was going to hang out by the casinos but I can do that another time

I’m in :)

Night:

I’ve been needing a trim on my hair recently too, excellent timing as always

Death: 

Oh please, you flatter me

Lucky:

Hey hey Ms. Flattering, when are we gonna meet that man of yours?

Night:

I also want to know Ms. Avoiding the topic of your marriage since the first century

Death:

Uh

Girls

Cmon

It’s 

I’ll do it someday

Lucky:

Better idea. Bring him along!

Night:

:0

I will agree with this if I can bring my favorite child I’ve been telling you all about

Lucky:

Killing two birds with one stone

Perfect

And I know how much you like killing Death

Death:

No

I

Stop

No

Lucky:

Alright, see you and your boys then!

Death:

>:/

“No way. No fucking way am I going to a SALON.”

Tommy does a lot of questionable stupid things in the name of his clingy friend, Night. She’s like a goddess or whatever and Tommy figures that he’s supposed to like worship her. But after that one time, he pulled an all-nighter to study and she ranted to him about some sunflowers who pissed her off, she’s not very scary to him. More of a pest. And said pest wants him to join her on a GIRLS night out.

“You need a haircut anyways, what’s the problem?”

Tommy flopped over on his side and smashed his face into his pillow. He’s just trying to sleep damn it.

“Just let me sleeeeeeep,” he said into the pillow.

“I will summon you here young man, so I suggest you put on some clothes.”

Ugh. Stupid teleporting powers. Stupid omnipresent but bored gods. Tommy groaned as loudly as he could while getting out of his warm, soft bed. This was a terrible day for the sleeping community. Ugh.

“What do I even put on to go to a salon?” He said wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“Maybe I should just dress you myself.” One star in the sky glowed a bit too brightly to be natural.

Tommy yelped and ran to the corner of the room farthest away from the window.

“Oh HELL NO. I swear if you put on that horrid outfit from the sequel I’m going to stab someone.”

“:(“

A stream of moonlight swirled its way into his room stealthily thinking he wouldn’t notice. Tommy scrambled to climb the top of his closet. Not tonight Night.

“Fine. I won’t put that lovely dress on you. But can I at least match our outfits?”

While Tommy mostly just hears her voice, he has seen her in person at least twice. He was the most sleep-deprived he’d ever been at the time and she was helping him fix some papers due the next day. From what he recalled, she looked more like some short bratty anime girl than some goddess.  He wonders suspiciously what her definition of ‘matching’ means.

“Define matching.”

“:)”

“Can't I just go in PJs?” Tommy pouted. “They can be flannel, like those Christmas family photos.”

“…that works.”

Tommy blinked and his surroundings shifted. He’s no longer in his comfy bedroom but rather standing in the middle of the sidewalk in grey and blue twinkly flannel. Tommy sighed. 

Why me? 

He felt a tap on his shoulder and whipped around to see Night standing on her tiptoes to reach him. Oh yeah. She’s short. Tommy doesn’t understand why she wants to look like some 10-year-old child but he thinks it’s partly because she watches too much anime. The Blade would probably get along with her.

“Are you ready?” She says, with a more human voice. Even sounds like a whiny brat. Ugh. 

Sometimes Tommy feels more like the babysitter than the blessed human he’s supposed to be.

“I’d rather be sleeping but sure.”

She happily drags him by the arm while he rolls his eyes and looks to the sky. Someone take him out of his misery.

Passing by the few open shops he looks around and questions where even they are. It doesn’t even look like L’manburg. For all he knows, they ended up in Wyoming. 

His suffering wasn’t drawn out very long as Night stopped in front of a small unnoticeable shop with a sign shaped like the moon hanged atop the sidewalk. 

“Why do I get the feeling you had a hand in this business,” Tommy said suspiciously, looking at the faded crescent moon logo.

“The last shop me and the girls went to closed down a decade ago so I sent some influence to a mortal here.”

“Uh-huh.” Tommy narrowed his eyes. “You aren’t bullying them right?”

Night ignored him like the menace she was and swung the door open. She leaned in and called out. “You girls here yet?”

The shop seemed pretty normal, save for the fact it looked empty and abandoned. Tommy was dragged in while Night knocked on the employee door. 

Tommy picked up what he hoped to be a fake nail from the nearest table. “Is this place even still running?” He quirked an eyebrow in the goddess's direction. Night rolled her eyes.

“Duh, it’s nighttime. They're closed. We get privileges 'cause we’re gods.”

A crash came from the back and a body came bursting through the door.

“FINE FINE ILL GO FINISH IT! KEEP YOUR MAGIC CURSES TO YOURSELF!”

Some woman with the weirdest dress Tommy’s ever seen stormed out the door tripping occasionally on the 6-inch high heels she was wearing. Tommy watched as she went out of view muttering to herself.

“Jeez Lucky, I think Cursing my brother into a woman was a wee bit too far.”

“We need more Ariana Griande content in this world.”

Tommy turned back to the door to see two more women, one in a hoodie and one in a waitress outfit. One of the goddesses, you usually can tell by how bizarre their outfits are. The woman in the hoodie gave him an odd look at his presence, which was fair seeing how he was in PJs in the middle of the room. She also noticed the small goddess by his side and her eyes lit up in recognition. 

“M-My lady!” She exclaimed, bowing her head towards them. “I’m glad of you to join us!”

This is the other issue Tommy’s got with the gods. Worshippers. Cringe. 

The other goddess (the waitress dressed one) broke into a grin and pushed past the other girl to scoop up Night into a hug. Cute. Night struggled to escape the bear hug but the other just squeezed tighter. 

“Awww look how adorable you are!”

“Lucky! Put me down!”

Tommy sidestepped them and made his way to who he presumed to be the owner of the shop.

“Hey.”

“I’m taken.”

Tommy choked on his spit. “I literally just said hi, what the fuck.”

“Just making sure.” The woman held out her hand. “Names Pearl.”

Tommy shook her hand. “Tommy.”

He felt so very uncomfortable. For one, it’s a woman and he’s in PJs. Awkward. Also, he doesn’t like to deal with others ‘Blessed by gods’. They don’t function the same way he does. You know, ‘YOLO’.

“Why did Lady Night bring you?” She asked with a tilted head. 

Tommy shrugged. “I wish I knew.”

Pearl leaned against the doorframe and put a hand on her temple. “First Lady Death brings her husband, then my brother gets cursed, and now I have some random teen in PJs.” She sighed. “This wasn’t part of the deal.”

Tommy coughed. “Not a teen. Also, that person who left was your brother?”

Pearl snorted. “Unfortunately. He had that coming though, seeing how he built a statue for Lady Luck but didn’t bother finishing the back.”

Tommy patted her on the shoulder. “I’m sure the curse isn’t permanent.”

Pearl seemed to want to say something in response but was pushed aside by Lucky who dragged Night by the hand through the doorway. 

“-And you need to see Kristin’s husband, he’s such a funny human-“ she chatted away while leaning the other goddess past them.

Night grabbed Tommy as she passed by, forcing him to follow.

The so-called employee area was just a VIP section that looked way more intact than the room up front. It was a very girlie design, but Tommy could respect the architecture. On the chair farthest in the back he noticed a woman dressed in black with the biggest floppy hat he’s ever seen. 10 bucks that’s the goddess. Next to her tied to one of the salon chairs was a guy in blonde who Tommy immediately recognized.

“Oh my fucking god, this is ridiculous.”

Remember the wax statue he made back then? Yeah, he stared at that face enough times to recognize it a mile away. Even worse, on his back were two massive black wings.

The legendary Philza Minecraft sat in horror as he and Tommy made eye contact. 

Tommy's jaw drops. “Your joking, the universe is fucking with me. First Techno with the pink hair and now you? How does nobody see this shit?!”

Tommy shook Night by the shoulders. “I’m not crazy right?”

Night smirked. “Just a little.”

Tommy banged his head against the wall, much to Phil’s surprise. To be fair though, in every reference photo of Phil’s Tommy on his computer, not one of them has wings on them. And trust me, there's a LOT.

“Mate?” Phil stuttered, “What are you doing here?”

Tommy kept banging his head. “Oh my guy, I sold my statue to Philza Minecraft’s son.  Someone strike me down. I don’t deserve this life.”

Phil got over his confusion to radiate genuine concern. Probably his father instincts kicking in now that Tommy thinks about it. If you have Wilbur for a son, god knows what that man’s fatherhood has seen.

“Mate you should stop hitting yourself.”

“Stop hitting yourself, stop hitting yourself!” Lucky chanted out childishly from where she settled into a chair. The other goddesses were watching the exchange in amusement, with the floppy-hat lady being the one who was giggling loudly. 

“Honey, you should introduce me to your friend here!” She said with a wink to Tommy. Yeah, he’s got a feeling she knows exactly who he is.

Phil looked between his wife and Tommy in disbelief. “That’s the sleepless child who scolded me and the boys that one time I was telling you about. Wha-what are you…,” he said, trailing off.

Tommy sighed. “I’ve been dragged here against my will to get a haircut.”

Night made an offended noise from where she was sitting. The goddesses were already getting started on painting each other's nails with Lucky getting a bright green color that looked radioactive. She should add some gold powder to that to contrast the colors. He told her as such, with Night looking smug in the background. Yeah fuck her, just because he can do color theory doesn't mean hes enjoying it.

Phil took a deep breath and looked to the sky. “What did this poor child do to deserve this fate…” he muttered. 

Luckily, the floppy hat goddess took pity on him and gestured Tommy over to where they were sitting. “So it’s Tommy right?” She asked innocently.

Yeah, she did know who he was. Fucking hell, goddesses were so gossipy.

Tommy looked over at Night to make sure she was distracted and wouldn’t bug him. Seeing how she was trying extremely hard to open Lucky's nail polish, it seemed he had a few minutes of conversation. 

“That’s me.” Tommy tipped his metaphorical hat. “And who might you be madam?”

Phil gaped his mouth. “You have manners?!”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “You gotta respect women, dude.”

“I- I didn’t mean it like tha-“

Tommy stage whispered behind Phil’s back. “Ignore Phil, it’s probably because he’s so old that he forgets women need to be treated like queens.”

Phil facepalmed in defeat while the lady in black laughed loudly. “Oh he’s funny!,” she exclaimed, “The name’s Kristin. please don’t call me madam, that makes me feel old!”

Behind him, Lucky called out, “Kristin what are you yapping about?! You are older than everyone here!”

 Night kicked the Luck goddess in the shins seeing how she just made the small goddess mess up the nail she was working on. Tommy mentally collapses and longs for anywhere but being with petty gods.

“BITC-“

Tommy cleared his throat. “I don’t think you should be talking Ms. I'm the god of moving furniture three inches to the left so people can hit their toes.”

“THAT WAS ONE TIME.”

“YOU DID IT TO ME FOR 3 WEEKS. AND I KNOW THAT WAS YOU BECAUSE FUCKING CLOVERS WERE GROWING IN MY GARDEN THAT ENTIRE TIME!”

Phil watched Tommy and Lucky bicker back and forth like a tennis match. It seemed like an everyday occurrence. Kristin took pity on him once again and leaned down to explain.

“Tommy has what we call in the business ‘supernatural beings clout.’ He gets away with practically anything because he’s in such good favor with many beings.”

Tommy looked at them from where he was being neck choked by Lucky and winked.

“Women just love me.” 

Lucky choked him tighter. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. With looks like these, who needs Luck? I get all the women, no matter what universe-“

His comment was cut short by something whacking him on the head.  

“Fuck!” Tommy yelped as he rubbed his head. He jumped out of Lucky's grasp. The goddess herself looked confused at the sudden attack. So who the hell- 

Night, who gave up trying to open the black nail polish by herself in the corner, caught a familiar-looking cast iron skillet in her hand. Oh no, Tommy lamented, she did not.

He glared at her smug expression. “That’s mine.”

“Nu-uh. It’s mine.”

“You left it at my house like months ago, it’s mine now.”

Phil glanced at the skillet for the second time in his entire life, but only this time, there was better lighting. “Wait a second….” He muttered.

Kristen patted her husband's shoulders and cleared her throat, gathering the attention of the two troublemakers.

“Both of you are wrong, it’s mine. Night borrowed it from me and never returned it, then you kept it.”

Tommy side-eyes Night, who suddenly finds the grains of the wooden chairs interesting. The little shit. Stealing isn’t below her then. “I’m not surprised that she stole it from a pogger woman like you.”

Kristen chuckled. “Don’t worry, you can keep it, you’ve been using it more than I would anyways.”

Phil covered his mouth in internal pain. “That was my favorite pan. I was wondering where it went this entire time.“

He sniffled. “I thought Techno crushed it.”

Tommy held his hand up in an L shape. “Ha ha, mine now bitch.” 

Before anyone could respond, Pearl emerged from the depths of wherever she disappeared off too with three other women trailing behind her. They looked incredibly intimidating. (Then again Tommy’s in PJs so any woman would be vastly superior in every way at this moment. Pog women.)

“My assistants have arrived, so we can now begin.”

ExcuseWhat.

To be continued 

Chapter Text

Apartment facts:
his apartment has two bedrooms one bath and is located on the highest floor. the second room is a guest room that is somewhat used.

The highest 2 floors are mostly 2 bedrooms and it’s only 400 dollars more. Also it is more of the cleaner, intact apartments of the lower half so better to pay more for a room that’s not missing anything from its walls. Still a better price than other places.

The apartment is 6 stories high. Most are in the area. It’s the legal height in the area so all surrounding buildings are the same. Easy for roof traveling.

Tommy lives in the smack middle of the poorer side of the city. It’s 15 minutes to school by bus and 20 minutes to work by bus. Both are in the border of the nicer side so he’s usually around that area.

Why doesn’t Tommy move out if he’s got enough money from gambling you say? Well, he’s probably saying something about sedimental values but in reality, he’s just too lazy to move again.

Now many of you may be wondering, what’s up with the Racoons? Well, they pay rent so they can live there. How? They have jobs people. There’s a whole animal civilization that’s running underground that most people don’t see. But it’s happening right under their noses.

(On that note, yes Racoons make better salaries than actual people, though with how bad quality the apartment is, no living human being would want to live there anyway)

Raccoons are one of the night's sacred animals, however, all nocturnal creatures usually fall under her control. That’s also one of the reasons why Tommy can understand them.

Raccoons are the stereotypical criminals in the animal city world. Poor guys. They need more justice. Speaking of justice, pandas are lawyers but that’s neither here nor there.

More interesting facts:

Phil has visited Tommy’s apartment at least two more times from this moment. Both times, he brought groceries.

Techno has tried visiting, but can never seem to catch Tommy at home. They just keep missing each other by a few minutes.

Yes, some villains, heroes, and vigilantes still cross over Tommy’s home. He goes out there and teaches them the old-fashioned way. He’s developed the perfect method and now wields his cast iron skillet like a final boss.

Tommy planted sunflowers in his garden. He doesn’t know if he likes them though as they keep attracting birds. Said birds like to sing loudly at 5 am and start beef with the Racoons.

There’s a chuck missing from one of the apartment walls. At least 2 rooms are exposed and no one’s bothered to fix it.

Another important thing readers ask themselves:

Where is the fourth wall?

It’s the wall with the poster. What you don’t see is that under the poster, there’s a rip in the space-time continuum. A tear in the universe if you will. There’s duct tape covering it but it keeps getting bigger. Tommy stuck a poster over it because he got tired of seeing a pure black void torn into his wall.

On that topic, if you try to go into the rip, it leads to another universe. Tommy might mess with it sometimes when he’s not working or going to school.

Why does he have a diamond play button? It fell out of the fourth wall. And it’s made of real diamonds. How could he not put it on display?

The curtains are pulled back in my drawing but I swear they go around the entire staircase in a half circle.

Are those discs real? Yes. Yes, they are. Tommy impulsively bought them when he was buying a record player. They play the designated Minecraft song, along with more Minecraft soundtrack.

(God I wish that exists in real life)

Night’s favorite disc is chirp. It makes her think of space in a sad nostalgic way. *cue thousand-yard stare*

Gravity broke. Don’t ask how. Sometimes Tommy’s stuck on the roof of his apartment or in-between walls. Only affects living creatures tho. Which good thing, as it would be a pain to move his furniture back to its spots. It has no pattern or consistency, but it shall be noted that it is 25% more likely to happen when the moon is big- I mean full.

Bonus:
Charlie: I’m the author’s favorite IRL so I get to co-host the lore announcement. This is great.

Tommy: the sludgy guy here has been gifted fourth-wall privileges. This is unfair, what is the point of being the main character if people start to understand my 4th wall jokes?

Charlie: I’m practically a God with how scuffed my abilities* are.
*hes a dungeon master, whatever he says while wielding a 20 sided dice becomes real

Tommy: I demand justice. This is favoritism that has nothing to do with the fanfiction. Where are my lawyers. I need to hire that Saul guy.

Charlie: Haha, funny goopy guy supremacy go brrrrrrrrr

Tommy, watching Charlie busting it down in the corner: ok we’re getting off-topic.

Charlie: *straightens tie* of course, where was I? Ah yes, lore announcement.

Tommy: this honestly could’ve just ended up in the A/N but the author in charge does whatever she damn well pleases and cannot understand a social cue for the life of her.

Charlie: this is too much power, someone stop her-

Tommy: says the favorite child. Anyways, as some may know there’s a Google Docs that people send requests in. I regret knowing the secrets of the universe. I can’t even enjoy lunch without thinking philosophically. Can I get a refund on life? I’ll even take half price.

Charlie: take the L and simply get better. Continuing on, someone in it asked for the link to the fanfic it was from since they tragically lost it.

Tommy: I hate when that happens. Not that I read fanfiction or anything. Definitely not. Cough.

Charlie, side eyes: …a brave wonderful citizen of the internet then kindly gave it to them. Such honor. People like them give hope to humanity.

Tommy: yeah yeah whatever, the whole point is since all you fuckers are canon as funny spirits called “archivers” the author decided that this Nobel spirit shall be gifted with a new title and a higher status.

Charlie: congrats, you’re now a god. More specifically, the god of travelers, subdivision being lost spirits. How incredibly poetic.

Tommy: homie just got upgraded. Everyone give a hand to our new god, “Nesquik Chocolate Syrup Drinker”

Charlie: …

Tommy: I can’t make this shit up, that’s a fucking poggers name

*Crowd_Applaud.mp3*

Charlie: this is the most fucking awesome god name I have ever seen. I love your name. I will conquer the world in the name of chocolate syrup drinkers.

Tommy: This is someone worth being a disciple for.

Charlie: please take me, I will build temples in your honor. I just want to flex the fact that my chosen god is fucking “Nesquik Chocolate Syrup Drinker”

Tommy: if you make a cult I will join it.

Charlie: but yeah, Nesquik Chugger, the Author doesn’t know if you moved on or still vibe with us. Just know your legacy of kindness lives on in us.

Tommy: oh my god someone take this man’s plot armor away, he’s going to become the main character at this point. Die.

Charlie: goodbye for now audience but just remember, I'm always watching :)

Tommy: you're banned. Leave. Someone get this guy out of my fanfic.

Chapter Text

Tommy’s got a problem. Probably nothing to worry about. But it kinda is. It’s stressing him out. He doesn’t like being stressed out. That defeats the purpose of being in a crack humor story. 

Anyway, his problem starts and ends with Wilbur. He’s over at Tommy’s place again. Nothing unusual right? Wrong. Because Tommy’s going to have guests over. And by guest, he means the second menace to the entire plot Tubbo.

“Wilbur please just go away for tonight, I got things to do.” Tommy pleaded for the umpteenth time.

Wilbur, sitting on Tommy’s couch in comfortable clothing, waved his pretzel stick at him. 

“See, you wouldn’t be this desperate to get rid of me if something wasn’t happening here.” Wilbur taunted. “I guess I better stay for the entertainment.”

Tommy smacked his head against the wall. The last thing he needs Is Tubbo to meet Wilbur. Wilbur munched happily on his bag of pretzel sticks and went back to watching the TV, unknowing of the pain to come.

“Don’t mind me, I’ll just be watching the Phantom of the Opera here in peace. You won’t even know I’m here- NO! WHY ARE YOU GOING WITH HIM, THE PHANTOM IS THE BETTER OPTION HERE!”

Tommy cradled his head in his hands. Why me?

With his passionate movie watcher set on staying, he has no choice but to just play along with the situation normally. In other words. Let’s Bullshit everything. 

A knock rang out from behind his door.  

“Come in, it’s open!” Tommy shouted while moving the last of the chocolate from the bottom drawers to the highest cabinets.

The door slammed open to a short little boi carrying a cardboard box that looked to be way heavier for someone his size. Tommy forgets sometimes that Tubbo lifts weights. He’s picked up Tommy and Ranboo at the same time on multiple occasions. He is someone to fear.

“Yo sleep hoe I brought the wax!” Tubbo calls as he looks at the dent in Tommy’s door. “Fuck not again.”

Wilbur whipped his head around and watched Tubbo in befuddlement. 

“Who the what.” He said, peeking over the couch pillows in curiosity.

Tubbo dropped the heavy box on the floor beside the door in surprise and whipped around. 

“Who the fuck is the vagrant?” Tubbo said to Tommy, jerking his head towards Wilbur on the couch.

Tommy sighed. Time to deal with the mess now. “That's Wilbur. He comes here sometimes to use my wifi.”

Tubbo crossed his arms. “If you want, I can hire someone to take him out.”

“Hello?” Wilbur called out.

Tommy shook his head. “No no, his brother is the anime protagonist, we’d just give him character development and end up being a side arc.”

“I'm sorry what?”

“Shut up Wilbur no one’s talking to you.”

“Hey!”

Tubbo shrugged. “I’m just saying, man. Can’t let those peasants take advantage of you.”

Tommy scratched his head. “Yeah fair enough.”

“Exfuckingscuse me-“

Tubbo bent down, ignoring the tall lanky fucker. As he should. Wilbur deserves to be ignored. The brunette opened the box up and looked through the obscene amount of junk inside of it. Wilbur leaned off the couch and peered in the box indiscreetly. Tommy joined them in the box exploration and looked at the box in disgust.

“Would It kill you to organize sometimes?”

Tubbo flipped him off while using the other hand to rummage through it further.

“What’s in the box?” Wilbur asked curiously. Tommy raised an eyebrow at him, wondering if he should give him PTSD from the first story.

“Beeswax mostly, but I also got some supplies to build a bomb.”

“I’m sorry, WHAT-“

Tommy snapped his fingers. “Oh yeah I never introduced you, Wilbur this is my friend Tubbo.”

“The drifting one.”

“Yes.”

“He’s more violent than I expected.”

“Look who’s talking-,” Tommy sniped back before Wilbur frantically jumped up and covered Tommy’s mouth. But the damage has already been done. Tubbo stood up to his full height (not very tall but still intimidating) and cracked his knuckles. 

“Oh?,” he said, tilting his head to the right, “Do I have a challenger?”

Wilbur narrowed his eyes. “Do you wanna try me?” He said darkly.

Shit. Tommy forgot that this bitch is a villain. They’re going to punch a hole in the new soundproof roof he just installed. He saved so much up for it.

Before Tubbo could say anything back Tommy interfered by biting Wilbur’s hand.

“Ow! What the fuck!”

Wilbur yanked his hand back but his balance from leaning on the couch was unsteady and he fell backwards off the couch.

Tubbo stood blankly at the empty air before leaning forward to see Wilbur groan on the floor.

“Welp, there he goes.”

Tommy was too busy shuddering at the nasty feeling coming from his teeth to worry about him. Ew. Wilbur skin cells. He forcefully ignored it to stop a bigger issue.

“Tubbo this is a violence-free zone, no fighting.”

“He started it.”

“No.”

“Not even chainsaws?”

“No!”

Tubbo rolled his eyes dramatically, while Wilbur finally got his old person body off the floor. “Fucking ow dude, why’d you bite me?”

“Cause I’m kinky.”

“YOU STILL GOING WITH THE SEXUAL JOKES-“

Tubbo snorted. “Do you even know Tommy? His origins are sexist jokes.” 

Tommy coughed. “Anyways if we could not break my furniture any more than usual that would be great.”

Wilbur crossed his arms. “The little shit threatened me.”

“WHO YOU CALLING SMALL FUCKING TOWER BITCH-“

Oh shit, he channeling his inner FullMetal Alchemist. Tommy grabbed Tubbo by the shoulder before he could move. “HEY, Wilbur here associates with your uncle’s lot, dude. CHILL.”

Tubbo freezes, before switching his mood into impassive and turning his back to Wilbur. “Ah, political gambling trash I see. Figured I smell rich boy in here.”

Tommy smirked at Wilbur while the other sputtered in defense. 

“E-Exuse me?!”

Tommy pointed to a now calm Tubbo going through the box again. He saw Wilbur as not worth his time, as he should. “That’s Schlatt’s niece.”

“Wait- the same Schlatt who’s got the monopoly in most businesses in L’manburg?!”

“The same one who made the special appearance last time.”

“Yeah. I hack his bank account sometimes. There’s too many zeros for him to notice.” Tubbo replied, not looking up while Wilbur's requestioned life behind them. “Fuck him.”

“Holy shit the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

Tommy shushed him. “Not necessarily. Watch.”

Tubbo ignored them both, even when Tommy came up to him and leaned on his shoulder. Big Man makes a great armrest. “This boi is all bite no bark.”

“Don’t you mean all bark no bite?” Asked Wilbur who sat back down on his spot on the couch.

Tommy shook his head. “No no, if he wants to fuck you up and ruin you, he won’t tell you. He’ll just do it.”

“Uh.”

“Yeah so all this is just for the bit, he wouldn’t harm a fly if you knew about it ;)”

Wilbur glanced back down to Tubbo who stuck his tongue out at him. “Bow to the fucking wow.”

“I see why you got along so well with my family that first night.” Said Wilbur faintly.

“I got it!” Tubbo pulled out a plastic jar triumphantly. Fuck yeah. Tommy rubbed his hands together and snatched it from the shorty’s hands. 

“Hoho! Now we cookin' with the good shit.”

While Tommy crackled darkly Wilbur leaned towards Tubbo concerningly. 

“What did you give him?”

Tubbo closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair, contemplating life and existence for exactly 2.46 seconds. 

“Peanut butter.”

Wilbur blinked silently. “I feel like I should’ve expected that. But I didn’t.” 

Tommy placed his precious jar of peanut butter onto the counter and shook Wilbur viciously on the shoulders for disrespecting it.

“How dare you! This isn’t just any peanut butter!”

“Oh yeah?” Wilbur raised an eyebrow. “What’s so special.”

“It’s extra chunky.”

“…”

“It’s CRUNCHY.”

Tubbo placed his hand on Wilbur’s shoulder sorrowfully. “It’s his secret ingredient to make cookies. The only place that sells that brand is where I live so we don’t make it often.”

Wilbur looks up with a ‘take me now god’ look. “Why don’t you people ever give context from the beginning.”

Tommy bounced up and down as he pulled out his cooking supplies. “Context is a sacrificial material that must be given to the insanity of the Night.” It’s been so long since he baked something for fun and goddamnit if anything is going to keep him from making these cookies he’ll murder them.

Wilbur got up from the couch and slowly approached Tommy, who was now in a flurry of moving about and gathering ingredients. “So you’re going to make cookies?”

Tubbo cleared his throat. “Correction. We are going to make cookies.”

Wilbur lightened up. “Can I joi-“

“No. Go back to watching your movie.”

Wilbur scoffed and grabbed the remote to turn the TV off like a whiny child doing the opposite of what hes told. He had pulled the volume down earlier but he shut down the entire thing this time.

“C'mon, please? I won’t even ask to lick the spoon.”

Tubbo wrinkled his nose in disgust as he opened a drawer to pull out a bee pattern apron. What Wilbur doesn’t realize (first mistake) is that Tubbo and Tommy are hardcore bakers. “First off, extremely unhygienic, secondly, we are skilled cookers who don’t need an EXTRA in the kitchen getting in our way.”

Wilbur looked at the ‘kitchen’. Tommy’s apartment is built weird so the main room is also the dining room and the kitchen. All the kitchen space and ovens are built into one of the walls, so there is technically no kitchen. 

“How can I get in the way? I’m only going to help.”

Tommy placed down a bowl and a sifter on one of the tables he has near the counters. “You wanna help? Sift this.”

He placed a container of white powder (haha) next to a befuddled Wilbur. He scrambled to grab the stuff while Tommy returned to measuring the chocolate chips. “Don’t forget to wash your hands!” He called out angrily over his shoulder. Fucking germs.

Wilbur saluted him and swapped spaces with Tubbo as he moved to grab the drying racks from storage.

“So Tommy,” Tubbo began, “I found out something pretty interesting online.”

“Oh really?l Tommy retorted. “Care to share the class?”

Another friend tradition. Cooking in the middle of the night, while talking about the weirdest shit they’ve seen since last time. And with their lives, they see weird shit a lot. It’s a tradition.

“So I was deep diving into the Internet, test running codes to break into some servers of mine,” Tubbo continued, measuring some wet ingredients, “and the code I created for looking up things related to you found some odd things recently.”

“Why do you have a code to specifically look up me?”

“I got a code for you, me, and Ranboo that searches and deletes records of us online if we choose to.”

Tommy snorted. “Bloody genius. How have you not been hired yet.”

Tubbo shrugged. “Tough world. I should’ve just become a prostitute.”

“We would’ve made great prostitutes.”

Wilbur choked on air listening in, causing a puff of white cloud to float above him from the sifter.

“Hey!” Tommy called. “INSANITARY! Go wash and do again!”

Wilbur flipped him off but since he was covered in white powder it didn’t give off any hateful energy. Haha, loser.

“So anyways, before I was rudely interrupted,” Tubbo glared at Wilbur, who was taking the sifter and bowl to the sink, “I found some interesting Internet files and archives remarking about a certain blonde individual who is obsessed over the night.”

“…”

“There’s a lot of info, seemly random and odd but unlike most stupid people I can connect the dots.”

Wilbur groaned. “Oh god, more of them who can see past bullshit.”

“Are you being a part-time eldritch horror Tommy?”

Tommy sighed. He really wasn’t hiding it, but this just makes it more annoying. Better to just go for a true lie. 

“I plead fifth.”

“Ah.” Tubbo nodded. “I’ll take that as an ‘I know you know I know’ situation. Also, you have a cult.”

“I HAVE A WHAT-“

Tommy mixed his batter a bit too aggressively and some butter fell onto the counter.

“Fuck-“ he quickly wiped it off with the nearest rag and whipped around to face Tubbo.

“What the fuck you mean there’s a cult?!”

Tubbo shrugged. “I have no idea, the cult website had a pretty sturdy firewall. That shit was government files tight. It took me quite a few minutes to move some of it.”

Tommy scrunched up his nose in horror. Some sickos are doing weird demonic shit in a cult for him?!  Ugh!

“Who started it?” He narrowed his eyes. “I need to get to the bottom of this.”

Tubbo pondered for a minute while scooping out cookie dough. “I think the user who hosted it was named ‘SweetDreamSupremacy’ or something like that.”

“Fuck I think the cult leader is the hero Dream.”

The sound of dishes falling into the sink rang out as the two jerked their heads toward Wilbur. While they were chatting along, Wilbur was engrossed in their stories, not paying attention to what he was doing. The shock of that statement caused a slip-up. And boy oh boy did this man fuck up.

“What the fuck did you do Wilbur?!”

“I don’t know?!”

Tommy looked at the white blob that was bubbling and hissing inside of the sink. “Did you WASH THE POWDER?!”

“YOU SAID I HAD TO CLEAN IT.”

“I MEANT THE FUCKING SUPPLIES YOU SNEEZING GERM DISH.”

Tubbo ignored the two butting heads and poked the sizzling blob with a knife. He watched as the entire top part dissolved and got consumed by the substance. 

“Guys, I don’t think this is ooblek.”

Tommy and Wilbur turned their heads in unison to see the blob start to float slowly into the air. It held its form while simultaneously squirming around like a liquid going down a pipe. Except it was floating upward. 

“Guys I think the oobleek achieved Nirvana.” Tubbo looked impressed, but of course he does, that insane fucker is a scientist at heart. And a psycho one at that. Tommy whipped around back at a frozen Wilbirch.

“WILBUR WHAT THE FUCK YOU HAD ONE JOB.”

“HOW IS THIS MY FAULT. IT WAS YOUR MYSTERIOUS WHITE POWDER.”

“CLUMPS MAN, YOU HAD TO SIFT FOR CLUMPS! IT WASN'T THAT HARD!”

Tubbo watched cheerfully as the thing rolled around in the air before sticking to Tommy’s ceiling, pulling a few loose spoons and butter knives up with it. “Aww look! It’s got a gravitational pull!” He demonstrated by lifting a fork towards it and watched as the fork flew up towards the blob. The blob happily absorbed it and grew bigger.

“Wilbur, did you just break the laws of physics?!”

“I JUST POURED WATER FOR FUCKS SAKE.”

Tubbo grabbed a chair and stood atop it to observe the strange roof blob closer.

“Interesting…”

Tommy took a deep breath. Fucking Wilbur who can’t even cook. Can’t even mix ingredients. Damn it.

“Someone grab me some rubbing alcohol spray,” Tommy grumbled. “I’ll take care of this.”

Wilbur looked up to Tubbo, who was happily poking the blob with his titanium poking stick (as seen on TV) and he hesitantly passed the requested objects to Tommy.

“What’s he doing?” Wilbur whispered to Tommy. 

Tubbo let go of his metal stick and watched the thing adhere to the blob. “Guys look! It’s practically achieved all 4 states of matter simultaneously! It’s admitting light levels too!”

Tommy grabbed a clear jar and pulled Tubbo down from the chair. 

“Oi-“

He climbed up, sprayed the enlightened blob with the alcohol, and the three of them watched the gunk unceremoniously go limp and fall into the jar Tommy held beneath it. They all stared at it.

“Well, that worked.”

“Can I keep it?”

Tubbo sent Tommy his ‘baby eyes that want to take apart a human’ and how could Tommy say no to that face? 

“I was going to give it to Fred but sure.”

Wilbur looked back up from being ashamed of his cookie skills. God, no wonder he’s banned from his house’s kitchen. “Who’s Fred?” 

Bruh. He needs to learn that asking questions is the one thing you shouldn’t do at night.

“The Night’s pet bat.”

“B-Bat?”

Tommy nodded casually as he turned back to clean the mess from the sink. Clean kitchen and all. 

“Yeah, last time I saw him, she took him to the salon -on a separate occasion than me- and he’s got 6-inch nails on,” Tommy saluted to the window, “But hey, it was either him or me and I am team Me, Myself, and I.”

Wilbur pinched the bridge of his nose. “A bat. With 6 inch nails. I didn’t need to see that in my mind.”

Tubbo shouldered him. “Too bad 'cause you just did. Die.”

Tubbo, the legend that he was, had already placed the dough onto the trays and began heating the oven.

“Oh Tommy I forgot to ask you, can you do me a favor.”

“Oh no.”

“Shut it’s not that bad- I got a small problem.”

Tommy stuck Siren in the time-out corner and helped Tubbo load the cookie trays in the oven while simultaneously emptying the leftover dough in containers. Tubbo didn’t look too concerned so his problem should not be that bad-

“I built a big bomb.”

Hmmmm. Well fuck.

“You what?!” Wilbur whipped his head around to look, but the two young adults pointed back at the wall, making the taller one cross his arms and grumble to himself. “I'm too old to be in time out…”

Tommy sighed. “My bomb-defusing skills are mediocre at best, but I’ll try.”

Tubbo shook his head. “No no, I can defuse it. I built it. I just need someone to join me.”

“Why.”

“I might go on my evil arc. You know me, I’m constantly tempted by the dark side.”

Yeah, fair. This pretty much sums up his friend. 

Tommy patted the other on the back while moving the containers into the fridge. 

“Don’t worry. I think I’ll be able to take you if you go full ‘Tubblow’ on us again.” Tommy paused. “Wait. How big is the bomb again?”

“Thermal nuclear missile.”

“Oh no, who let you be that bored that you built that.”

Tubbo smirked. “I built it about 4 times. The first two were confiscated by Ranboo and the third backfired when the gov raided my spare abandoned warehouse.”

“Times like these I need to remind myself that you’re supposed to be in the chaotic good range on a character analysis chart.”

“:)”

Tommy rolled his eyes and checked the oven. Mmmmm that shit smelled so fucking good. Wait. Didn’t he say the nuke was primed?

He looked up at Tubbo. “Hold up. Is the missle live this very moment?”

Tubbo checked the time. “Mmmm yeah more or less.”

“Missles. Plural?”

“Eh,” tubbo made a so-so motion with his hands, “two and a half fully operational. But then again, I have them all set to launch to the moon if anyone accidentally activates it.”

Tommy buried his face in his hands. “Oh, Night is going to be sooo pissed at me.”

The timer went off for the cookies.

Chapter Text

Tommy has a hole in his wall. Pretty sure he’s stated it before, but it’s a literal hole in the universe. A rip in the time-space continuum if you will. He’s tried fixing it. It’s kind of a lost cause. After consulting Night on whether it’s a life risk -as most people do when there’s a hole in their wall- he’s been told it’s harmless. Probably. The universe can’t really connect to anything because of copyright issues or whatever. Pretty much useless.

“Works for me.” 

That’s what he last said before laying a poster he had bought at the convenience store atop the hole. So yeah.

Out of sight, out of mind.

That’s pretty much why when the poster ripped and a person flew out of it, Tommy screamed like a little girl.

…

Sue him it’s 1 am and he’s eating cookies on his couch.

The person groaned from where they slammed their head onto the floor. Tommy got over his jumpscare and crawled across the couch, peaking over it onto the floor. 

“What the fuck.”

He observed a lanky teen with blond hair and blues eyes looking back up at him. The eyes widened and the person scrambled to stand up. In his urgency to get up, he slammed his head into Tommy’s nose.

“OW FUCK YOUU-“

Tommy jerked back on the couch and rubbed his nose as tears swelled up in his eyes. But the blond teen didn’t pay any attention. He was too busy looking at Tommy. He turned around slowly and peered at the hole in the wall. The sparkly void shined back at them. He turned back  to Tommy and awkwardly cleared his throat.

“Well,” mystery portal hole person drawled, “I don’t normally do this but considering how larger this fandom is getting and its ratio of incomplete works someone’s gotta do it.”

“What-“

“Have you or a loved one considered reaching out and getting therapy of any form?”

“Ex-fucking-cuse me?” Tommy sputtered, scrambling up to stand. He considered grabbing his cast iron skillet, but the person held an uncanny resemblance to himself that was beginning to unnerve him. He can only deal with so much bullshit in a day. (Or night. Whatever.)

“Your excused-“

“Who the fuck ARE you and why are you ripping my posters!?”

The person pointed at himself, and then tommy. 

“I’m you.”

Whatever form of shock/terror that was on Tommys face melted off at that line. He shot the portal guy a ‘bruh’ face. “That’s so fucking cliche. Execute that line better.”

AU Tommy?-Yeah let’s call him AU Tommy- blinked a couple of times, shocked into silence. He opened his mouth as if to respond with a witty line, but decided against it. He furrowed his eyebrows, crossed his arms and stared hard into the floor. The silence that crossed was kinda pissing him off but it was nice to know the universe hopper was putting in effort to sound cooler. 10 points to team Tommy.

Tommy stepped closer when the other narrowed his eyes and tapped his feet. “You-you good bro?” He asked but the other raised a hand to his face. Rude.

“Hold on I’m trying to think of a better way to execute that line.”

Tommy made an ‘o’ with his mouth. “Oh I’m sorry, carry on.” He grabbed his plate of cookies from the table and pointed to the kitchen. “I’m just gonna- in the kitchen- call if you need me.” 

He left AU Tommy staring at his couch like it’ll explode if he does it hard enough. Grabbing an extra cup of milk, along with more cookies, he prepares for his ‘guest’. Naturally this situation isn’t something that happens to normal people so he shifts his mind into its “YOLO” gear and takes a deep breath. He makes his way back to the couch, where AU Tommy migrated to laying down on the couch with his hands covering his eyes. 

Tommy placed his cookies and milk on the table. “Cookie?” He offered.

Au tommy poked an eye out from behind his hand and righted himself up, taking the offered glass of milk. “Thank you.” He muttered, taking a bite out of the cookie and staring at it dejectedly.

Awkward silence filled the room.

“Uh, thought of anything?” Tommy inquired.

“Give me a sec.”

“Ok.”

“…”

“…”

The clock ticked loudly across the room.

Tommy made to clear his throat again, but AU Tommy jumped up from the couch and gasped. “I got it!” He yelled, while Tommy grabbed his heart to try and calm it down from the sudden jumpscare. The blonde world hopper adjusted his t shirt and straighten up to his full height. Clearing his throat he stated,

“I am the cooler, more mature Tommyinnit.”

“…”

Tommy facepalmed. “3/10 fucker. I’m ashamed to share your name.”

The other sputtered. “Well I’m SORRY, I’m just a fucking therapist who sits in his little universe listening to other universe Tommy’s do group therapy. Exuse me for not preparing for taking house calls until recently.”

Tommy sputtered, before pushing aside that bombshell of info in favor of getting proper information. No ones allowed to one up him on bamboozling in HIS universe.

 “Ok that aside, why are you here.”

Au tommy cradled the milk cup and looked towards the skylight trapdoor. “Well you see, the Tommyinnit universe has been leaving a lot of unfinished work- wait,” he paused, turning to look at Tommy, “are you aware of the Archive?”

“Don’t worry I’m a fellow Fourth-wall breaker.”

“How much we talking.”

“Eh, 75%. Unreliable narrator I believe is what the term is.”

AU Tommy nodded. “Ah Yes of course. Anyways I digress. I come from a universe where my job is to bring Tommyinnits from different Universes into one group therapy to talk out all our problems.”

Tommy furrowed his eyebrows. “How bad are we talking.” Hes not even asking, knowing himself it’s probably bad.

“As in we’ve learned the hard way that there was no unbeatable method to avoid certain death, only pain.”

Tommy cringed. He takes a moment to thank the spirits that he’s fueled by humor rather than angst.

“So yeah, that’s my job,” AU Tommy continued, “well, technically the Entire D.S.M.P ensemble does it too but recently it came into light that I’m the number one character tag in the Minecraft category-“

“Woah there buddy,” Tommy held up his hand, the other dunking a cookie into his milk. “I said 75% wall breaking. Please, my audience will file a report. Last thing i need is copyright issues.”

“That literally doesn’t make- ok whatever the point is I’m trying to expand the therapy program to TommyInnits that need the help but are unable to access due to their circumstances.”

Tommy put down his empty milk cup and leaned back onto the couch. “That’s…awfully nice of you...” He trailed off. “Wait. Are you insinuating that I need therapy?”

AU Tommy shrugged. “I’m giving one on one sessions in the universe, then giving out a flyer to join our next meeting session.”

Tommy shook his head and waved his hands away. “No no no, I don’t need therapy. I make people NEED therapy, so thanks for the offer, but go find someone who really needs it.”

Therapist tommy was not having that and sent him the most sarcastic smile tommy could ever see on his own face.

“I’ll be the judge of that. I have a few questions for you.” He whips out a notebook and pen from nowhere and pushes Tommy down onto the couch.

“What the-“

“What is your daily routine?”

Tommy sends his ‘therapist’ a glare. “I’m not doing this.”

AU Tommy looks up from his notebook. “If you think you don’t need therapy, then there’s no harm in talking.”

“…Fine.” He looked to the ceiling, like how people act when their at therapy in the movies. He’s never been to therapy so he’s going to assume this is how it’s done. (A/N I haven’t either please don’t call me out)

“Let’s see, every morning I wake up to head to college, then the library to study, and after I walk to my job which is convenient nearby, before taking the bus home.” Tommy paused, before adding, “and then I may or may not sleep, depending on if god and or villains are willing to let me sleep.”

Au Tommy froze from where he was scribbling on his notebook. “Care to repeat that?”

“No.”

“Ok.” He wrote some more things down. “I assume this is a world of Hero’s, villains, and vigilantes?”

Tommy shot him a thumbs up. 

“Alright then. Now remember that everything we say doesn’t leave the room etc etc. Are you a vigilante of sorts?”

“Nah.”

“Hero?”

“Nope.”

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how rude of me to try and call you a hero when you were a villain the entire time-”

“I’m pretty morally grey but I’m not a villain.”

AU Tommy scoffed. “Please. You can’t have a vigilante story without being one of those.”

Tommy crossed his arms. This guys sheer audacity. “I’ll have you know Tommyinnits clinic was run by civilian Tommy.”

“He becomes a villain you know.”

“Fuck, now I gotta join a villain group or some shit. Do they need a resume for that?”

His therapist glanced up worryingly. “What? NO! Don’t feel pressured to do anything by comparing yourself to other universes.”

Tommy ignored him in favor of pondering. What makes this a hero/villain world? Oh yeah. Duh. The answer is super obvious.

“I may be a civilian but I know vigilantes. Does that count?”

Therapist perked up at that. “Ah yes of course. Knowing people who risk their lives on a day to day basis for no reason can put pressuring stress onto your relationship-“

“No, they don’t know that I know.”

Au Tommy faltered for a second, but did not hesitate to change his argument. “Well in that case having to deal with the betrayal of trust and frustration that you might feel is perfectly normal-“

“I don’t know that they are vigilantes officially through.”

“Heh.” 

Tommy pulled out his List™. “This is the prompt list. It’s like my bucket list only I don’t write it. Somehow everything on here eventually becomes true. It’s Schrödinger's knowledge, because I both know and don’t know what its contents are.”

The two glanced at the odd paper while little text of all sorts of fonts and sizes add and remove themselves from it.

Therapist Tommy rubbed his eyes. “You-you said your a civilian?”

“Yeah.”

“Any other unusual relations?”

“I’m friends with a goddess but orher than that no.”

Au tommy took a deep breath. Honestly this guys audacity, he should be used to this shit. “Has this relationship ever put you in harms way.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. If only bro knew. “I befriended a buncha villains this one time but other than that no, my plot armors too strong.”

“Ok, hold the fuck up, why didn’t you say this first?” The therapist shot him some dirty looks. “That’s the whole fucking point.”

Tommy smirked. “But it’s funnier this way. He shifted to a more comfortable position on the couch. Bah. Alternate dimension therapists. Such a pain. 

Before AU Tommy could angrily scold him for making his job harder, his apartment decided it would be a great time to shift gravity. With a yelp, AU Tommy grabbed the edge of the couch to keep from falling onto the roof. Tommy let the gravity take him and casually grabbed the cookie plate before it could go smashing onto the roof. He sat down and looked up to where AU Tommy was hanging. 

“You good?” He called out.

“WHAT THE FUCK-“

“Relax, gravity just shifted, don’t worry this happens sometimes.”

After the first two times it happened Tommy secured most of his shit to the ground because trying to flip his couch the right way is the most fucking annoying thing in the world. The apartment more or less held itself so nothing broke or went flying. Thank spirits for ducking tape.

He waved AU Tommy down. “That looks uncomfortable, please, join me on the roof.”

His ‘therapist’ hopped down next to him but stepped in something. 

“Ew what the fuck,” he said lifting his foot and finding white mush stuck between his shoe and the ceiling.

Tommy gasped. “Omg, it’s still here?”

The white goop, or as Tommy recalls, the sentiment ooblek detached itself from the others shoe and rolled away to the other room.

“Uh.”

“I guess I missed some of it and it grew back.”

“What the fuck.”

Tommy patted the other on the shoulder. At least they were the same height, he would’ve ended the universe is he was shorter. “Don’t worry your pretty head on it. Well, our head because we are just too good looking.”

Au Tommy shot him a dirty look and pushed the others hand off of his shoulder. Looking down on his notes, Tommy could see the gears clicking behind those eyes, which is not good. He’s problem solving. Tommy recognizes that face. He also doesn’t want therapy. So he needs to fuck with him and the only way to shock himself is by confessing to something he would never say aloud.

“Hey you’re an expert, how much sleep am I supposed to get?”

Au tommy looked up for a second from his notes. “…hm?”

“I’m pretty sure only getting 5 hours a week isn’t good.”

“What is WRONG with you.”

Gravity flipped back and they both landed back on the couch. Both of them ignored it at that point. Tommy put a finger on his chin. “Well I wouldn’t say only 5 hours. That’s more like the estimated range. Usually it’s 3-8 on a regular week, 10 if I’m lucky, and 20 when I’m not being pestered by house squatters and bored entities.”

“I think you need fucking help man there is something seriously broken about that.”

“I thought you were the therapist, your SUPPOSED to know why im built this way. Other than the fact that im built that way.”

Au Tommy smacked his head against his hand, looking like he’d rather hit it against the wall.

“If you want me to help you i think you’d be better off in the therapy group session instead.”

“I will simply traumatize them more.”

“NO-”

Tommy threw his hair back like the dramatic bitch he is. “You just dont want to deal with my awesomeness.”

Au Tommy got up from the couch and reached into his pocket. “-And thats all the time we have for today. Prime, why do i have to be this annoying damnit.”

“Most people find me annoying at first so if you dont please consider leaving Kudos-”

Au tommy kicked him in the leg. “OW FUCK THIS IS VIOLENCE THIS IS ASSULT IM GOING TO SUE YOU THERAPISTS CANT GET PHYSICAL THIS IS ILLEGAL I AM GOING TO GET YOUR ASS CANCELED SO FAST YOU WONT EVEN BE ABLE TO PRAY-”

His “Therapist’ ignored him and shoved a flier in his face to muffle his screams. “Theres my contact information, show up or not. Im at my limit with myself. Prime why am i so immature-”

Then he casually walked into the void hole. Tommy looked at the hole for a few seconds. He looked at the flyer. 

~This is where i’d put the Ao3 link to the fic. IF I HAD IT. I'LL FIND IT I SWEAR IT EXISTS I SAW IT LIKE A YEAR AND A HALF AGO BUT I'M SURE IT'S STILL AROUND SOMEWHERE~ (it's been found >:D ---->https://ao3-rd-18.onrender.com/works/41412453)

Tommy looked back into the hole. “This flyer is useless!” he called out into the void. 

“Fuuuuuuuuckk…..yoouuuuuu…..” he faintly heard calling out inside.

He signed, grabbed his cookie plate, and headed back to the kitchen. 

“Great, now my night has been ruined. Hey Siri, play Mad World by Tears for Fears.”

And so Tommys night ended with him sing shouting while washing dishes and pretending nothing is wrong. Like usual.

“ALL AROUND ME ARE FAMILAR FACES-”

Chapter Text

“Another day, another slay.”

“All hail the- what the fuck?”

Tommy read as he walked into his apartment building. 

“Seriously who the fuck is sending me this shit on Instagram?”

He blocked a couple of weird users who kept trying to add him and angrily turned off his phone. “Stupid social media. Stupid fucking weirdos.” He mumbled. He shoved both hands in his pocket and started jogging up the stairs. Oh yeah. The elevators are out of commission. He is 75% sure it’s just Luck messing with him though. Probably trying to make him train to start his main character arc. Jokes on them, he *likes* climbing stairs.

Passing the second floor he heard a loud bang. He scrunched his face in confusion and peered out the staircase. Down the hall, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“The fu-“

“Whatever shall we do?!!” 

Chittering came from the other side of the hall. Oh, Tommy thought. It’s just the neighbors. And by neighbors, he means the raccoons. The chittering started getting more and more heated, so he figured someone was either getting fired, or the ferret/weasel civil war was back for round two.

Of course, since night had fallen, he could understand everything the nocturnal animals could say. (Don’t tell the possums, but the Racoons are his favorite.)

“The location is crucial to our plans! They cannot stay!”

“We tried! They’re not leaving the Sewers no matter how much we try!”

“Filthy humans! Stinking up the place, drawing weird floor art, and being loud! They’re ruining the undercover operations!”

Tommy stepped out into the hall and closer to the noise, just out of curiosity mind you, but the floor underneath him creaked loudly.

Fuck. 

The chattering stopped. 

“Shit.” He swore under his breath. 

“Golden garbage is that you?”

“FUCK YOU. I AM NOT TRASH YOU FUCKING GARBAGE FURBALLS.”

If there’s one thing that pisses him off the most about understanding animals, is that the raccoons have nicknamed him Golden Trash. He doesn’t care if it’s considered a decent noble title in Racoon culture, nobody calls him trash. 

“Oh, golden garbage please assist us with your human knowledge! For our best studies cannot decode this mysterious event!”

A Racoon opened the door and scampered to his feet. Ah, shit. He groaned internally, here we go again. Getting involved in critter politics. From the mess of a room he perceives as he’s guided (read: dragged) in, they must be having a frustrating time.

The current leader of the apartment is Saul. He’s the trash collector representative. Like taxes but trash. But also a part of the secret service of Racoons. Please don’t ask him how it works. Tommy always goes crazy hearing them rant about their jobs when they catch him going to his apartment. 

Anyways, digressing. A laptop sat at the only table in the entire apartment. Yes, laptop. Despite most animals' reluctance to use electronics, the business ones favor them heavily. The Racoons have taken to holding video meetings online constantly. Currently from what Tommy can see, at least 37 other Racoons are in the meeting.

Saul, the Racoon who greeted him, guided him other to the laptop.

“This is the committee of sewer politics.”

Tommy slowly waved his hand at the camera. They were probably important, but they were too drop-kickable to be taken seriously. Quite a few of them chittered back their hellos or whatever the Racoon's equivalent of a greeting is.

“Dare I ask what the problem is?” Tommy whispered to Saul, who was adjusting his camera to fit the both of them. Huh. Guess Racoons get self-conscious about that too.

One of the Racoons hosting the meeting, who was wearing the cutest pair of glasses Tommy had ever seen, smashed his keyboard with his small paws and opened a shared window. 

“Thank you for volunteering to be the current human representative of the meeting-“

“I didn’t-“

“Since recently in the sewers, there has been human activity in the northeastern rooms of the old bomb shelters.”

“Wait what.”

Tommy furrowed his eyebrows and bit the inside of his cheek accidentally. It’s a well-known fact that because of multiple cases of wars, rebellions, smuggling, and revolutions, the underground of the city is a labyrinth of tunnels, rooms, elevators, and stairs. Half of them are half-built, other half are partially destroyed. The animal society currently rules it, begrudgingly allowing certain humans to have permits over spaces. Since it’s a maze they closely guard the entrances and offer guides to travel through it. Because of this, they don’t take lightly to ‘vagrants’ who try and use their rooms without permission, much less learn how to navigate them. 

Tommy has been there. Once. It sucks. He doesn’t know why anyone would want to stay there.

“Don’t you guys have like, critter police to kick 'em out?”

“They deflect our attempts and insist on conducting their odd rituals! It is getting rather frustrating.”

Other raccoons nodded in agreement. On the screen, the Racoon leader shared a blurry image from one of their camera spies (imagine a Racoon. With a camera tied on its back. They are terrifying, sneaky creatures.) The picture had a poorly lit room and enough pixels to feed family of 3 but one of the most recognizable features was the drawing on the floor.

“These fuckers are back at it again…” he muttered. His Racoon companion climbed onto his back while he was distracted and placed its paws on top of his head.

“Will you deal with this problem for the sake of Racoon?”

Tommy groaned internally. On one hand, he could say no and they would totally respect that. But thanks to his damn Luck (fuck you Luck, HES TIRED-) he knows exactly what’s going on here. 

He also should take care of it before it gets out of hand too. 

“Fine,” he said to a bunch of Racoons in a video call at 11 pm, “let’s go investigate some Cultists.”

~

“I admit that you critters have terrible taste in decoration.”

His neighbors are too busy to join him, so the committee sent a small, oddly squishable camera spy raccoon to escort him to the Cult shit. The raccoon goes by the name of "Señor Bob Cantonándomela" (a/n: does not mean anything) which makes Tommy think that Racoons name themselves by either going to baby names dot com, or smashing keyboards in different languages and let autocorrect fill it in for them. Eh. Could be worse.

…

Wait “Tommy” is in baby names dot com, there’s probably a Racoon named like him. 

Fuck Ok, now it’s worse.

The Racoon began slowing down from its “zooming around like a child pumped up on white dust at a party and honey, that was NOT sugar” and cautiously scaled the back of Tommy up to his shoulder. He doesn’t know what’s up with Racoons and sitting on his shoulder, but it must be an aesthetic thing for them. Eh. He doesn’t pay attention to this shit too much.

“We’s ‘proching the funky humans brov.”

Tommy’s going to commit defenestration. This Racoon will be punted into the sun.

“Can you not speak like that?”

“I've studied human slang for infiltration man, lemme cook.”

Of course, he gets stuck with the weird ones.

The Racoon grabbed Tommy’s face by his little hands and turned his head towards a bright red door. It was very bright, like the person who was designing the place went “Here is my vision. I just want it to scream ‘Take this man’s painting abilities away and lock him up for life’, give me the most revolting brightest red you can legally sell me.”

yeah, it was a fucking random ass door that was practically glowing next to the dark older hall they were in. Odd sounds and creepy ass singing could be heard from the other side, which did nothing the scare Tommy, but it did echo weirdly and hurt his ears so that wasn’t really cash money of them.

He dusted his pants to stall time before having to go through the (fucking ugly) door. 

“Right. I’m going through it. Wait,” he turned the obnoxiously close Racoon on his shoulder. “Are you sticking with me or dipping, cause I wouldn’t blame you since everyone here are idiot.”

“I’ll stick to ya like sidewalk gum broski.”

“Ew.”

He knocks on the door, because what better way to impress a bunch of cultists than being polite?

From the other side (the walls are painstakingly thin, which probably fucked up so many human spies in the past) a loud ‘shit’ echos followed by a ‘take the fucking ambiance CD out of that George! I’ll get the door.”

The creepy sounds and singing got cut off. Damn, cheaters couldn’t even do it themselves, what sort of cultists do they think they are?

The door slowly opened to a guy in a ‘rancid chemical green’ hoodie and fucking skinny jeans. Ew. Who wears skinny jeans in this weather? It’s musty as fuck in here.

“Can I help…you…” his face dropped to horror at the sight of Tommy 'cause yeah, you probably would too if the cult you started about a guy was interrupted by said guy himself.

Tommy cleared his throat and channeled his inner business person. 

“Do you have time to talk about our Lord and Savior, Nesquik Chocolate Syrup Drinker?”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAA-“

His eyes rolled up behind his head and he fell backward hard like a plank of wood. Pathetic. 

Tommy's plan is simple. If these guys want to be in a cult he’d rather they worship the right deity. Honestly, the Nesquik chocolate syrup drinker temple is expanding every day with new members so they wouldn’t miss anything.

Inside, that one conspiracy guy, Tommy really should know their names, turned to the door at the leader's sudden collapse and his eyes widened.

“Y-You?!”

He pointed and stuttered while the rest of the group began to panic. Alright headcount time. Can’t let anyone escape. Tommy walked in and made a show of sidestepping their leader, just to show he comes in peace, and makes his way in. 

“You can come in?! We haven’t explicitly said you could walk in?!”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “I’m not Charlie, that’s his expertise in getting people to let him in their houses.”

There were only 8 people, which is 8 more people than Tommy would have liked but whatever. Seven of them were running around like little children, grabbing and moving different candles and DIY spell books. The last one was chilling in a corner cross-legged on the floor with a laptop and headphones in. Bingo. He looked like someone who knew shit.

He casually walked towards the guy, noticing how much younger he was than the rest of them. He had cat ears gamer headphones so clearly he couldn’t be all that bad in Tommy’s opinion.

Tommy stopped directly in front of his laptop and squatted down but the guy didn’t react. He didn't even look up from the screen before responding.

“Go back to your dumb friends Punz and leave me alone, I’m locked in.”

“You playing Team Fortress Two my guy?”

The guy scowled and lifted one side of his headphones to retort, before pausing at the sight of Tommy. He glanced behind Tommy to the chaos of the other cultists and looked back at Tommy.

He sent Tommy a deadpan face. “What the fuck are you doing here? Don’t tell me those idiots actually managed to summon you.”

Tommy waved him off with a smile while Bob the Racoon climbed off his shoulder to approach the other guy.

“Nah I’m off duty. What I’m really here for is to talk about our lord and savior Nesquik Chocolate Syrup Drinker.”

The cat ear headphones guy was not impressed. “Why.”

Tommy grinned. “Well, I’m glad you asked!” He pulled a pamphlet out of his back pocket. (He didn’t have back pockets. Shhhhhh. He’ll never tell his secret.)

“Join the temple of the Chocolate Syrup Drinker! We do bi-weekly sacrifices and prayer and in return, you can find fanfictions you forgot to bookmark faster. We also have cookies.” he recited from the pamphlet.

The guy immediately shook Tommy's hand. “Sold. The names Purpled.”

Tommy’s jaw dropped. “Wait, are you the guy in my college discord server who posted the PDF file of the Math textbook?”

Purpled raised an eyebrow. “Should I be concerned that you have my name memorized?”

Tommy shook his hand harder. “Boss man you are the most legendary savior amongst college students, you have saved the life of the financially unstable students citywide.-“

Purpled pulled his hand away. “Alright I get it, sheeeesh-” 

Someone threw a shoe in their direction and the both of them dodged it without acknowledging it. 

Purpled sat up and grabbed the raccoon (who was sniffing the computer) by his waist, which Tommy wouldn’t recommend usually, but his escort seemed to be fine. 

“Yo Bob, how’s your niece doing?”

Tommy choked while the Racoon pulled out an iPhone and began showing Purpled some photos.  (Where the fuck did the iPhone come from??? Tommy won’t ask-)

“You know this Raccoon?”

Purpled shrugged while having the phone shoved in his face. “I’ve worked in a lot of places. I also follow his mom on Facebook but that was just through coincidence.”

“Really?” Tommy ignored the Facebook comment as a fellow chaotic gremlin himself, “Got any job recommendations?”

Purpled tapped his head thoughtfully. “Well, you work at that SpaceCash coffee shop currently right?”

“How do you-“

“Cult.”

“Ah.”

“SpaceCash is mid, definitely a 5/10 experience working there.” Purpled shuddered. “Did it once, never again.”

Tommy scoffed. “It’s not that bad-“

Purpled grabbed him on the shoulder and looked him dead in the eye. 

“It’s that bad. Even that job I took where I worked at a cemetery for 80 an hour was better than that. It was the graveyard shift too.”

Tommy facepalmed at his terrible pun. He insults Tommy’s perfectly good job and then makes the worst pun ever. He’s starting to grow on Tommy.

“Well then Jack of all trades, what’s the best job you’ve ever had.” Tommy sneered at him, crossing his arms.

“Hero accountant intern, hands down. Those guys can’t do the simplest things for shit, and you get paid a fuck ton of money to do it.” He replied shamelessly. Mad respect. 

“How did you get a job at the HERO department-“

Purpled jabbed a finger over at the cult people behind them, who were beginning to compose themselves and wake up their leader who was still fainted. The one with glasses licked his finger and stuck it in the fainted guy's ear.

“Are all of them heroes?”

“They’re bored. This is like a club for them.”

Tommy frowned. “They need better past times.”

Purpled patted Tommy on the shoulder sadly. “This is the best one so far.”

He pointed to the guy with glasses. “That’s George, he’s colorblind. He unfortunately also enjoys those color-by-number canvases so every room in the hero complex has an abstract painting in it.”

He pointed to the one who was lighting candles with matches and failing horribly. “That’s SapNap. He likes playing with fireworks and flamethrowers, and usually at the same time.”

He gestured to the two guys in the corner consulting their book that looked like it was written in red crayon. “Those are Karl and Bad. They… well they were already invested in cult magic and the like, so they’re the proclaimed experts here. Well. That's what they think.”

Tommy looked at most of their summoning supplies and what looked suspiciously like scented candles from the mall. “I’ve seen 15-year-olds summon better than this.”

Purpled shrugged and jabbed his thumb at some guy with the biggest gold chain around his neck that Tommy has ever seen. “That’s my brother Punz. His collection of sharp objects is bigger and more illegal than he lets on.”

Some other guy in armor joins Punz in sharpening some pointy things that Tommy would rather not have near his eye. “Oh yeah, and that's Awsamdude.” Purpled says. “I don’t know why he’s here. He’s a pretty chill guy. Maybe it’s to babysit these idiots.”

Tommy eyed the pointy knives they were holding. “ I have a feeling they are members of R slash stab first ask later.”

“Nahhh they chill. Punz didn’t even arrest me when he found out about my 23 other illegal side hustles.”

“What.”

Purpled shut down his computer and stuck it in a backpack. “Gotta pay for college somehow.”

Tommy thumped his chest. “I felt that spiritually man.” He paused. “Wait, why are you here then?”

“I’m the manager and asthetic enhancer.” 

Tommy freezes. He turns slowly to the little shit and looks him dead in the eyes. That motherfucker looked almost pleased at it.

“Don’t tell me you're the one who painted the fucking door.”

Purpled must have sensed the change in the air at Tommy’s sudden hostility because he set both hands in the air slowly.

“Hey, man listen. If these guys are going to do stupid shit and pretend their actually getting up to occult things, at least I can give them some advice on making it look cooler.”

He pointed to the symbols on the ground and the candles. “They can’t understand aesthetics and lighting dynamics for shit, at least I know how to set a mood.”

Tommy side-eyed him. “I cannot believe you right now-“

“Our Leader of the Night has finally come!”

Tommy was RUDLY interrupted by the rest of the crowd standing in a semi-circle around him. Fucking creeps.

“It seems your essence has been tied to a mortal vessel and you’ve sought us out to free you of your flesh prison!” 

That green fuck is starting to sound more unhinged and the other guys were nodding along like this was fucking normal. Tommy figures they’re either high as fuck or the heroes are just psychopaths.

Tommy made a face. “Dude. You did not just say flesh prison.”

That one guy, Karl, tapped the leader on the shoulder. “Hey uh, how do we get him in the circle to reverse exorcise him?” He looked way too happy saying that.

The Sapnap guy slammed his fist into his hand. “I’ll take care of it-“

Bad, who looked a bit nervous and kept glancing at Tommy’s direction hesitantly said, “Maybe trying bowing in synch or guiding him nicely?”

Purpled leaned into Tommy’s ear and whispered. “He didn’t believe you existed when Karl convinced him to come.” 

Ah. Fun.

Tommy raised his hands up, making them all take one step back at the same time. Heh, pathetic. “Listen, I’m really not something to worship and stuff. I’m just some college student trying to get a decent amount of sleep and fulfill my to-do list.”

Purpled nodded in agreement. “Always gotta respect the universal prompt list.”

Oohkayy, he didn’t say that but he will ask questions later. someone who breaks the 4th wall that's not him needs to be investigated.

The cultists looked at each other. 

“Either he’s modest, or he’s possessed,” Punz said, holding a sharp pointy thing that Tommy had no idea what the name was. He nervously stood closer to Purpled for no reason whatsoever of course. 

“Ah- not possessed- no sir. Seriously nothing in here boys, haha, no thoughts head empty, you will only find 2 am Spider-Man brain rot and some math formulas up here.” He chuckled weakly at the odd stares. Finally getting into some safe territory.

Purpled frowned. “Dude just get in the circle.”

What. 

Tommy whipped around to the other blonde. “I thought you were on my side?!”

Purpled set him a look™. “I’m on the aesthetic side. Now do it for the bit.”

Tommy scoffed. “Your aesthetic is shit.”

Purple had the audacity to look offended. Which he shouldn’t be. “I’ll have you know my aesthetic is lovely AND functional. These fuckers wanted to use mall incense candles for the circle!”

George scratched his head. “I thought you did say to buy wood cinnamon and lavender candles the other day.”

“IS THAT WHY IT SMELLS LIKE THAT?!” Purpled stormed up to George and jabbed a finger at him. “You're banned from buying supplies ever again.”

The green man (Dream, that’s what his name was, yes he’s so smart-) pulled Purpled away from George. “Hey lay off, I told him to get them anyways, it’s a line of defense.”

Purpled scoffed and draped his arms around Tommy like their friends or whatever. As if he would be friends with someone with a shit sense of decor. “You really think you could ward off this guy with some eucalyptus and plum scents?”

Tommy eyes him. “I dunno bro, it’s making my eyes water.”

“Oh for fucks sake be better.” Purpled grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him towards the circle. “Hey what-“ 

the cultists eagerly followed them and took their places around the circle. ("No- Sapnap I stand here you go other there- Sam you need to move left- no your other left!- ow! Dream you poked me- take a step back Punz you're too close")

Purpled kept Tommy from escaping his grasp, even blocking him from making a swipe at his kneecaps from his blind spot. Tommy would be impressed with his skills if not for the fact they were being used against him.

“Dude, how are you this good and still hanging around cultists.”

Purpled beamed despite his you know, manhandling of Tommy which is considered a crime in 5 countries. “It’s called playing fnaf 10/20 mode to heighten reaction times. I’ve tried to add it to the training regiment back when I was a hero intern but they laughed me off.”

Tommy made finger guns at him. “Have you tried talking to vigilantes? They’re kinky for that shit.”

Purpled looked way too happy at that. “I’ll look into it.” He abruptly threw Tommy into the circle which, damn Tommy got too invested in the banter to realize Purpled was distracting him from resisting. Who knew? His one weakness.  Being funny. Gotta remember that one for later.

Tommy stood up from where he was thrown on the ground and tried to step out of the circle, but found he couldnt. “Now this is just bullshit. There's no way this works,” he muttered.

While he bent down to see investigate the edges of the circle, the weirdos circling him began to chant.

“Cum Twitch Services utens, Twitch's Community Guidelines subicies et additis guidelines seu regulas quae in Twitch Services missae sunt, tibi praesto factae sunt, vel tibi in nexu cum certis officiis et notis aperiri licet.”

Purple snorted into his hand. “Pfffttt, they said cum.”

Tommy eyed some sparkly shit mixed in the red paint and poked it with his finger. It stuck like glue to his hand and looked like the night sky if it was painted by a 5-year-old who had access to glitter glue.

Well, at least he knows why he can't leave the circle now. The paint was mixed with cosmic soup. “Those damn spirits are behind this, I can feel it,” he muttered. He put his finger to his mouth and licked the cosmic soup. 

Hmmm. tastes like [REDACTED].

“ Vellicare etiam possunt quaedam officia praestanda, quae VELLICIO Termini venditionis subiecta sunt, nec non adiectis condicionibus vel condicionibus, quae tibi in nexu cum huiusmodi servitiis deteguntur.”

They kept at it, and the cosmic soup was happily reacting to the funny words, choosing to glow and be all mystic and shit. Honestly, Tommy didn't even think this was gonna work if those pesky spirits didn't interfere. 

Well, this could be a problem.

“Omnes huiusmodi termini et normae his Termini servitii inseruntur referentes.”

Tommy wrinkled his nose. “Seriously, what are you guys chanting? There's no way you guys got your hands on an actual spell.”

One of the cultists coughed. “Have you never gone to the R slash spells Reddit page?”

The other one beside him elbowed him and they raised their hands towards the air in unison. 

“HAEC TERMINORUM OFFICII DILIGENTER lege quaeso! HIC EST OBLIGATIO LOCATIO!”

The cosmic soup glowed brighter than the sun, flashbanging all of the people in the room. Tommy shielded his eyes. 

…

He opened his eyes to a very not-full-of-cultist room. The same place, with everything how it was. There was just.

No one here but him.

“Did they kill themselves?”

Tommy whipped around to a vaguely amused Purpled. Well, almost everyone was missing. At least hes got some company. Tommy looked at the circle. It was very much not special anymore. Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“I think they reversed summoned themselves.”

Purpled snorted. “Idiots.” he shook his head. “I didn't even think they were doing anything, seeing how they were reciting the Twitch TOS in Latin.”

“Latin?”

“Shut the fuck up I’ve got a 3 1/2 year Duolingo streak and jobs love my resume.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Still, Twitch TOS? Wrong fucking service, I’m with Night, not Prime. I should be insulted on Night's behalf if I cared.”

“I’m personally a YouTube shorts user but pop off.” Purpled patted Tommy on the shoulder, “Well, that was a funny opening prank but you should bring them back and scare them more.”

Tommy blinked. “I- I didn't do that?”

Purpled shot him a confused grin. “What do you mean man? You're like, an eldritch horror, that's your job. Let's keep harassing them. Get into your setup and like, make this place more unhinged for the creepy vibes and stuff.”

Tommy backed away as Purpled got more and more enthusiastic. “No no, you got it all wrong, I don't do this for the kicks- heck, I didn't ASK to be this way. I just want to sleep and be a college student man-”

Purpled sent him a lazy grin. “C’mon dude, I got some great ideas for some cool mystic shit you can get up to.”

Tommy started heading to the (fucking red) door. “Listen man it's already bad enough Night puts me in that godawful outfit, I don't need you adding onto that.”

Purpled grabbed Tommy by his shirt and pinned him to the doorway with one hand, using the other to grab his phone. “Speaking of that outfit,” he said, completely ignoring everything Tommy just said, “I got an inspo page on Pinterest that I think you could seriously benefit from to build your urban legend and style.” he giggled. “We could even sell some merch!”

Tommy stared at him in horror. Forget the cultists. The true unhinged character is right in front of him.

“I think you need some sleep from your multiple jobs my guy.” he bluntly stated.

“Let me be your manager!” Purpled sent him doggy eyes, which wouldn’t have worked even if he wasn’t pinning Tommy down.

“ I think that would be a wonderful idea.”  

Ohno. ohhhhnnnoooo.

Tommy looked past Purpled to see his least favorite goddess, Night. 

Oh, and she was a fucking Racoon. A very pretty-looking, mystical constellation raccoon. He couldn’t tell if she was purple or blue, or if the stars along the fur were floating or not. But it's one of the many forms she uses to bug Tommy so he refuses to be impressed by it.

The giant raccoon floated gracefully across the room and landed atop Tommy's head. How dare she mess up his perfectly fixed hairstyle-

“Purpled. How would you like to become my blessed and help Tommy unleash his inner Main Character? Become his PR Manager. Teach him the ways of the Pinterest.”

Purpled looked way too fucking happy, as if hes been preparing his entire life for this moment and not at all confused by the utter bullshit going down. Tommy can understand why Night would go for a guy like that.

“YES!” 

Night smiled like a feral animal, which she was, and happily hopped onto Purpled. While she was transferring her energy to him she leaned over his shoulder and he started pulling up his notes and vision boards from his phone. he did NOT waste a second.

“So I was thinking we play into the whole moon theme, and maybe do some shit like sailor moon transformations, you know what I mean?”

“ YES I love that show, I think Tommy would look lovely in a mini skirt-”

“OI I'M RIGHT HERE-”

Purpled held his hand up which made Tommy's jaw snap shut. Well, shit. Not even a few seconds in and hes already abusing this power against Tommy.

“We should also shout out our sponsors to help boost the algorithm and incorporate more positive energy to strengthen the main character.”

Racoon Night pulled out a sheet of paper from thin air and handed it to Purpled. “Would you like to try and see if it works?”

Purpled rubbed both hands together and grabbed the sheet. “I thought you'd never ask.” he squinted at the writing which honestly Tommy could relate to because he knows personally that Night’s handwriting is absolute shit.

Purpled took a deep breath and started ringing some bell he summoned from who knows where with an obnoxious song beginning to play out of nowhere with no origin whatsoever.

“shout out to, Dem0n_at_your_door, sakura_the_kitsune, R_J_NowHasAnAccount, Av_Ia for commenting in many chapters sorry if I missed someone, shoutout to not1ntheR3alw0rld for writing fanfiction about fanfiction-which is the coolest shit anyone could ever do-, shoutout to just_your_average_enby_mimikyu and everyone else for the art, shoutout to Lounycoon for leaving thick ass comments and being the luck god- shoutout too Nesqu-“

Tommy groaned and buried his head in his hands, slowly sliding down the wall and curling up into a ball. He felt a small little hand tap him on his leg. What now.

He glanced through his hands and saw the little camera escort raccoon from the beginning. Bob. yeah. Where the hell has he been?

“Where the fuck have you been.” he hissed.

“I got lost in the sauce”

I despise you with every fiber of my being.”

“You love us. We also recorded this all for business reasons.”

“Well, shit.”

Chapter Text

Dream earning stalker status. 

Regardless of what anyone says, Dream does NOT have an obsession with the supernatural. None whatsoever. Anyone who says so is a liar.

“Dream let’s go home, I’m tired of sitting on these dumb roof tiles.”

“Yeah Dream, it’s not like watching some poor kid work from the rooftops is going to enlighten you on your investigations.”

Dream put the binoculars down and glared at his two so-called best friends. Can’t even support him and his pastimes. Even if said pastimes include them all crammed on top of a roof lying down on their stomachs.

“That,” he hissed, “is NOT a boy, that is a being of power and energy, and I WILL get to the bottom of this.”

He looked into the binoculars again, observing that blonde fucker fake smiling at some pink-haired customer leaving the coffee shop. He’s plotting something malicious behind those beady blue eyes, Dream can feel it in his bones. Maybe the guy’s a fae, stealing everyone’s names via the coffee shop and attempting to take over the city. Maybe he’s a vampire, trying to get people to sleep so he can easily feast on their sleeping bodies-

George stretched and laid his head down.

“Well wake me up when something interesting happens.” He muttered.

Dream jerked his head and his eye twitched. “NO! We need to be vigilant-“

George rolled over to his side, lost balance, and tumbled off the rooftop.

…ouch.

 Note to self. Choose a roof that’s George-proof next time.

George is kinky for sleep.

George always runs a little sleepier than most people. He enjoys the peace and the quiet, and his favorite activities are doing nothing with his favorite people.

So how he ended up as a hero with the loudest, hyperactive toddler friends who love doing the oddest things is beyond him. Seriously. He even begrudgingly had Karl read his horoscope today to prepare for his day and yet those two still manage to do the worst. 

“It’s not my fault! It’s that awful curse! You know this by now! Why do you still have it!” Sapnap yelled over the fire alarm. He waved a pillow in front of it to try and ward off the smoke in the area.

Hmmm, the apartment’s on fire.

“Well Excuse me for wanting to have TOAST every once in a while. How was I supposed to know a toaster OVEN falls under the umbrella of TOASTER!” Dream shouts back at him while trying to put out the electrical fire with a towel. “It’s your fault for annoying the fire gods in the first place idiot.”

Sapnap scoffed, grabbed a rolling chair, and climbed up on it. He reached for the smoke detector and tried to pull the wires out. “It’s not my fault they couldn’t stand harsh facts.”

George sat on the couch. Doing nothing. He watched them from afar. Hmmm. Maybe he should help. 

Nah. Let’s put in some two cents.

“Um correct me if I’m wrong Sapnap,” George cleared his throat, “Didn’t you tell that one fire deity, and I quote, ‘You gods are just as pitiful as humans if you can’t Untoast Bread.’”

Sapnap punched the smoke detector with his hands. “IT WAS A REASONABLE STATEMENT. Motherfucker banned me from toast. This isn’t fair.”

Dream looked away from the fire towards the obnoxious beeping that only got worse as Sapnap punched it harder and harder. 

“Dude, just turn it off already, my landlord is going to kill me.”

Sapnap sent Dream a dirty look. “You don’t think I’m trying?!”

George glanced at the ceiling and watched the fire slowly get bigger and bigger. 

“You know smoke detectors use radioactive materials?” He offhandedly said. “You’re not going to be able to have children Sapnap.”

“WHAT-“

The rolling chair he was standing on caught a charger cable under the wheels and Sapnap fell onto the table, causing the plate of toast Dream was making before Sapnap visited to spontaneously combust. 

“REALLY NOW SAPNAP-“

“FUCK TOAST AND FUCK TOASTERS-“

George stepped out onto the balcony while Dream ran to get the fire extinguisher. He sighed, his mind trailing back to that one crazy night as it usually does. The one night when they all got to peacefully sleep and he was saved from the stupidities. Most people wouldn’t think that getting knocked out by a frying pan was a good thing, but for George, it was a miracle sent from the heavens. 

That next day, he felt more refreshed and alert than he had ever felt before. He won’t admit it aloud, but getting attacked by that Night demigod was probably the most peaceful night he had gotten- which is to say, a full 7 hours of sleep- with his friends. And god, how George wishes to do that again. Someday.

“GEORGE YOUR HAIRS ON FIRE!”

“SAPNAP YOUR HAIR IS TOO!”

“WAAAAAAAA-“

Sapnap vs Toast explained (by Gametheory)

“GET BACK HERE YOU MOTHERFUCKER-“

Sapnap fucking hates gods, deities, and any other supernatural beings. Ask anyone. They’re jackasses, stuck up, only care about themselves, mess with humans like their trash or something, and overall can just kiss his ass-

“Someone seems a little angry!” 

Fucker interrupted his internal monologue. The current asshole villain he was fighting taunted him and blew a raspberry as Sapnap chased him through the streets of the “party district”. The streets were empty since it was 8 am and waking up at 7 in the entertainment district is considered a crime punishable by public humiliation. 

“Oh you motherf- stop or I’ll fucking make you!” The guy was booking it to the main center, which heroes are ‘technically’ banned from. Subpoena himself does give a fuck, but his bosses don’t like it when anyone even steps near this area, so he’ll definitely be getting an earful when he returns. Might as well grab this guy anyway since he’s already going to be yelled at.

The villain makes a show of hopping over the invisible line that separates the 

Outer streets and the main center and turns to taunt Sapnap. Fucking asshole. He’ll be sorry. 

Sapnap kept running and shoved his shoulder into the guy, knocking him back a couple of feet into the street.

“W-what the fuck man?! You can’t do that!”

“Oh yeah?” He said with a growl. “I’m not in the best mood so I really don’t give a fuck.”

And “not In the best mood” was an understatement, he’s been seething all week after being bested by some twig with a fucking Rapunzel pan and the patrols he signed up for to get his anger out were all peaceful.  Screw what his anger management therapist says, he needs to beat this fucker up.

“H-hey listen man-“ the fucker stuttered. “You can’t do shit, I literally own this place-“

Sapnap unsheathed his katana from his back. “Well, then it looks like I won’t have to hold back then.” He’s heard that the guy in charge of this place is like, a big supervillain or something. He doesn’t know his name, but then again, Dream is usually the one who keeps track of the Wanted board.

He slashed the katana at the villain and watched the guy narrowly dodge the wave of flames that trailed after the sword.

(He’s not a hypocrite, he still hates magic, but he stole a fucking flame sword and got cursed for it, so he fucking deserves to use it damn it.)

“Pinche Cabron! Do you even know me? I’m the King of dumb luck and you’re in my territory! All i did was steal some gummy worms from a store. Fuck off!”

People seem to forget how incredibly petty Sapnap is. For goodness sake, it says it in his official description.

Sapnap swung at his head, before bending down and slicing upwards. X marks the spot.

“SHIT!-“

The guy was pushed out of the way just in time by some very fast green thing and Sapnap is NOT amused™. In fact, he was mostly seeing red and fire.

“ASSHOLE! COME OUT OF HIDING-“

A gun was held up out of the corner of his eye and he quickly sliced the oncoming bullet in half. He narrowed his eyes at the new guy in a suit. He was covered in the greenest stains Sapnap had ever seen, with the green shit dripping out of his hair. What the fuck.

The goopy guy bent down and rolled some dice on the floor. 

“Damn it, ok, we can’t leave til we take care of this guy.”

The original villain Sapnap was chasing-eyed him before snatching the gun from the slime guy.

“Just incapacitate him Slime, he’s on our property and I do NOT want to deal with the cleaning bill.”

Slime rolled his eyes. “Jeez Quackity, I had it handled, no need to be so nervous.”

“IM NOT NERVOUS-“

Slime grabbed Quackity out of the way before a wall of flames burned the ground where he stood. 

Sapnap narrowed his eyes. 

“Don’t go fucking ignoring me. I can still take the both of you!”

There was something about the slime guy that Sapnap could feel, the same way he could feel the Rapunzel twig and his fire sword. Something magical and evil.

Sapnap does not like him.

Slime threw dice on the ground before Sapnap could prepare the next blow and yelled,

“I cast vicious mockery!”

He looks down to the dice. 

“Natural 20 let’s fucking go.”

Slime turned to his partner. “Big Q! Throw me down a beat Yo.”

The two spun in a circle and when they faced around, they both wore glasses, gold chains, and wielded microphones.

Quackity started beatboxing into the mic (which echoed way louder than it should) as Slime began to rap. Sapnap stood frozen, but he didn’t know if it was in shock, or disbelief,  or if it was something they were doing.

“Yuh, lemme educate a concept that may seem a bit foreign to you.”

“It’s called pulling bitches, which I know you don’t have a clue how to do.”

Slime stepped closer to him and flicked his forehead. But it didn’t hurt as much as the words did.

“You stumble with lines, and think you’re fine, but you’re so pathetic and you know it’s true.”

“Finish him!” Quackity shouted.

“Now take your sad ass outta here, you’ll have better luck fucking your crew!” 

“OHHHHHHHHH!”

Quackity threw money in the air on top of Slimecicle and the latter dropped his mic on the floor. 

They both walked away with their backs turned at him. Sapnap couldn’t even move to follow them. He dropped his sword and it clattered to the floor. He sunk slowly to the floor to join it. 

Has he mentioned that he fucking hates magic.

(He may have cried a little but nobody has to know that.)

“Do you think I was too hard on him?” Charlie asked Quackity while they made their way up to the penthouse. 

“Dude I follow him on Tinder, he’ll recover in like 2 days tops.”

“Why do you follow him on-“

“Long story.”

Bonus:

[Sapnap’s resume: Stole legendary fire katana from a deity and insulted him, is now cursed against toast, toasters, and electric heaters. Also has anger issues.

The hero department: Lmao, hired.]

In which the number one hero was given a bodyguard against the supernatural but everyone is an idiot.

Punz: I am legally paid to like you

Dream: cool, cool, I fuck with that. Wanna join my cult?

Punz: your.

Punz: what.

Awesamdude: You want me to what.

The Hero Department: glad you agree. You start Monday.

Awesamdude: i didn't-

Are they human? Good question. Idek and I'm the author.

Karl was in a giddy mood as he browsed the bookstore with his fellow research buddy, Badboyhalo. He was ecstatic that one of his rituals finally worked! Oh, the possibilities! If he could enchant hero gear or tame wild mystic creatures to fight alongside humans, it could change so much-

“Er- Karl? You’ve been staring at the origami section for 4 minutes? Are you going to pick up the book?”

Karl blinked a couple of times from where he was zoned out and pat Bad on the shoulder. “No no, just thinking.”

Bad slowly nodded. “…right. Totally not going insane. I see.” 

Karl never understood why Bad thinks he’s crazy. Well, everyone thinks he’s a little crazy in general but Bad always takes things seriously rather than the joke people wave it off as! Karl’s finnnnee.

 He’s just dazed and references things that never happened and forgets things that did happen- that’s so normal. Totally.

“Karl!”

He jumped out of thought again and pointed to the mythology section. “That way! I heard they got a new book on how to make diy enchantments!”

Bad groaned and shook his head and Karl dragged him to the next shelf over. He giggled a little at the taller man’s annoyance. Bad is such a pushover in the best way possible, and so willing to join others without falling to actual peer pressure. There’s a reason he’s such a great hero. And speaking of peer pressure…

“Say Bad?”

“Hm?”

Karl bit his nail and decided to just go for it. Dream asked him too anyway and he’ll just blame him if this backfires. yeah.

“Wanna join Dream’s Cult?”

“What.” Bad said flatly.

Oh no, he sounded angry. Well not angry but he didn’t give a good sound response-

“Well, it’s not really a cult, we’re just calling that cause it’s funny, well we want to do cult-y things to investigate the supernatural but it’s more of a hangout- and by us I mean the dream team, Punz, Oh! Awesamdude too I think-“ Karl rambled, while Bad looked more and more unimpressed.

“Might I remind you my last undercover mission got me hypnotized under a cult, lost my sanity, and Skep barely was able to save the mission and take it down?”

Karl facepalmed. Damn. He knew he had forgotten something!

“Oh my god I am so  sorry, it must have slipped my mind.” Karl breathed. That was so not cash money of him.

Bad sighed in the ‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed’ way. “It’s fine. I figured it might’ve.” He grabbed one of the books off the shelves about curses and opened the index. “You’re going to be conducting tests though, right?”

Karl nodded slowly, hoping this was a good thing.

“I suppose as your research partner, I should go. After all, I know how dangerous cults can get if they don’t do things the right way or summon something they shouldn’t. (Or accidentally get cursed too-)”

Karl’s energy renewed with more vigor. So Bad does want to help him! This is a great day for the mystic community! Wait what was that last part-

“Hold on Bad, what did you say?”

“Hm? That I’ll join?”

“No no after that.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“No, you just said you were cursed!” Karl got up in Bad’s personal space without realizing it, trying to find any traces of a curse anywhere. “Is this why you always research cursed things and ways to save people Magically? You don’t feel cursed the way Sapnap does but then again every curse is a little different-“

“I'M NOT!” 

Karl jumped at Bad’s outbreak. He felt his eyes water a little without his consent. 

“Nonono it’s not like that Karl,” Bad reassured him. “You misheard. I said ‘accidentally get cursed’ as I was naming the dangers. Silly.”

He booped Karl on the nose. Karl pouted. “So you’re not cursed?”

Badboyhalo shifted back and forth and looked away from Karl. 

“…no.” He said softly.

“Aw, bummer.” Karl, who cannot read social cues if his life depended on it, said. He frolicked happily to the bookbinding section, already forgetting the conversation he just had. Bad watched him in content, ignoring the fact he doesn’t have a shadow at all…

~•~

Badboyhalo: so what’s the cult investigating?

Dream: that one kid from the SpaceCash by the library is an eldritch horror 

BadBoy ‘probably not human anymore’ Halo: no he’s not, I would know.

Dream: what?

Badboyhalo: what?

[Insert Toreador March Here] 

Purpled accidentally went insane. Or, at least he lost some of his sanity. He can’t tell, seeing how he feels completely fine and maybe a little better than before.

Well, the reason why his cheese fell off his cracker is a bit odd. People don’t realize how easily it is to get cursed, or how often people do get cursed without realizing it. It’s only the ones that truly affect your life that you notice (way too late).

And with Purpled, he got trapped in a game.

Fucking FNAF of all things too.

He could’ve still had his sanity if it was the Backrooms or Minecraft. At least there’s exploration and excitement. But noooo, he had to get stuck in the one game that gets you paid below minimum wage risking your life and being stuck in the same. Damn. Place. Every. Night.

Looking back, he couldn’t pin down the moment when he lost it. When it first started, he’d been scared shitless. Cause, duh, FNAF in real life. Anyone would be. 

But after dying over 100 times and doing the same damn thing every night he got so incredibly bored and sick of the routine. He already has everything memorized to a reflex. Not to mention the game mode and version would change randomly, leaving him pissed off and unable to take a nap.

Snap went his sanity.

…So of course when he got out eventually and joined a part of the working class of college students he got bored.

How can you go from working at a place like FNAF to pouring coffee at SpaceCash?

No. Which is why he has done practically every job the city has to offer. Both legal and illegal. Some he quits within the week, some he works with until he wins- er- gets satisfaction from.

Which is seldom. But oh well.

“As fun it was to hear your life story, just kill me already.”

The guy who Purpled was sent to take out casually bleed out on the floor of the warehouse they were in.

Something about drug deals. Eh. He doesn’t pay attention to orders.

“Sure.” 

 He stabs the guy repeatedly with a knife and raids his pockets for any fun things like tasers and/or breath mints.

Purpled’s phone rang from inside his boot, where he kept it. Like a normal person.

“Hi welcome to Wendy’s what can I get you.” Best opening line.

“I need a favor.” The voice, Punz, said.

Ah yes, the sibling who so helpfully registered him as dead when he disappeared.

 Family amiright.

Purpled rolled your eyes. “Who needs to disappear?” 

“Dude not that type, You worked at that one party planning store, can you help us set up a room that looks like a cult?”

Well, that’s a new one.

“Are you…trying to catch someone?”

“No.”

“Alright, no elaboration got it.” Purpled shifted the phone to the other ear while he poured gasoline on the corpse in front of him. “What time?”

“I’ll send you the address. Be here tomorrow at sundown.”

“Oh sorry I think I’ll be late.”

“The fuck?” the voice hissed from the mic. “You and what social life?”

Purpled is offended at the fact his brother doesn’t think he has a social life. Instagram and Discord say otherwise.

“I have to 1v1 duel someone behind a Dennys around that time so I’ll show up a bit late.”

Silence crossed the phone while Purpled threw a match and watched the body go up in flames.

“…you’re a weird kid.”

“Thanks. Love you too.” Purpled said as he walked out of the warehouse. “Oh and can we get Chinese I got a craving and it’s being a bitch to me.”

Average assassin job:

Purpled: *half kills victim*

Purpled: oh this reminds me of *tells entire life story*

Victim: god just kill me now

Purpled: wait I’m getting to the good part

Victim: *looks for something sharp to stab themselves with*

~ a long while later ~

Purpled: *finished story*

Victim: *died of blood loss around 10 minutes ago*

Purpled: Rude.

[I HAVE NEVER PLAYED FNAF BEFORE WHATS A FAZBEAR-]

Chapter Text

ok ok ok chat dont kill me i know its been *looks at calendar*

FUCK. I'm bad at math LMAO. its been, heh, around 4 months? and I feel bad for not keeping you all informed so here's a little quick announcement of some things I want you guys to know:

A) you may have noticed the chapter count is complete. THIS IS STILL GOING. I have just decided that since each chapter is more or less independent from each other as long as you read the OG story, there's no need to keep the chapter number ambiguous.

This is also so our lovely fans who use the filter system with "works completed only" can find this cause lets face it, like half of the DSMP population here leave their work hanging, and I don't want to stay silent so long and do you guys like that every time I post a new chapter ill add the number up so don't worry

next thing

B) I STILL AM GOING TO POST yea I know its been a while but I swear I got a chapter like *squints* halfway? done? i think idk I uhhh, writing is kinda like an escapism thing for me but life is like fucking great right now so I haven't been writing as much as I used too lol.

i love this universe and I still got so many unwritten jokes and prompts that I want to get to, even if I haven't watch mcyt in a while (I forgot tommys 20 I'm screaming from watching his new Minecraft world vid)

now until I say "IM DONE" always assume I'm going to keep going, I will try to be like "hi guys still alive hope you are too" if too much time passes because we all got shit lets face it but I will always come back to this.

uhhhh. i think that's pretty much it, the next chapter I will TRY and get it out by the end? of the year please I know that sounds bad but I'm giving a lot of time cause I'm a heavy procrastinator and hate saying things. don't trust a damn thing I say.

Chapter Text

Tommy actually got sleep. He got to go to sleep at 9. It was great. For once god blessed him with actual sleep-

[beep]

It was bound to happen at some point.

Tommy cracked open his eyes. The alarm clock rang back at him.

[4:00]

It glowed in the dark looking like a hundred red eyes lazily blinking open and close with each flickering LED.

“WHICH MOTHERFUCKER SET MY CLOCK TO 4- oh wait.”

Tommy rolled over, grabbed the textbook he was reviewing the day before, and hit the alarm clock. It didn’t break, it can’t. No matter how many times Tommy chucked it out the window. But it shut off that awful noise. That was a win in his books.

Tommy sighed and sat upright, rubbing the fucking sand out of his eyes. No not that metaphorical shit they always say in writing, there was literal sand in his eyes. Something about Sandman lore, he wasn’t paying attention when the Night chose him so when something fucky happens he just blames that. It’s also nasty. 

 He looked at the pillow longingly, knowing damn well if he tried to go back to sleep, something bad was going to happen to him. Double naps are never worth it. He’ll end up sleeping in and feeling even worse.

Tommy begrudgingly lifted himself out of bed. His alarm clock started ringing again to remind him it was still there. He picked it up and threw it out the window.

“Fucking cursed objects.” He mumbled aloud knowing somewhere someone had heard him. Grabbing a sweater, he went to investigate, whatever the hell is going on it's going to end up being a problem. He looked back at his room one more time regretting the choice of leaving his bed already. It's practically calling his name! With its soft cover and its warm embrace ready to bring him back into the arms of Morpheus and get gently put in the dream world. The alarm clock teleported back next to the bed, judging him in a way only inanimate objects at 4 am can.

“Alright alright, I’m going.” He rolled his eyes, voice hoarse from still waking up. Ugh. Note to self. Chug some sink water as soon as possible. Those thoughts are what keep him going in times like these. Cause the only thing worth living for at this ungodly hour is sink water.

Oh yeah. Not to gloss over his most recent problem. Cursed alarm clock. It’s probably not normal. It rings at 4 a.m. when he’s close to death. And it’s indestructible. Scary? Eh. It would be except for the fact that it’s absolutely shit at telling how close to death he is.  

He went to the kitchen in search of that tasty 4 am sink water before locking eyes with the fridge. He diverted his path and made a break for it, and wretched the damn thing open. It buzzed sadly. He grabbed a couple of leftover cookies. Can’t function without sugar thank you very much.  And yes he’s going to drink it with sink water. He’s just Dad-less like that.

“Huehueheuheueheue.” He made some creepy chortles to assert dominance over the other creepy sounds in the dark before dipping his cookie in the water. Seconds later he regretted it because FUCK that tasted awful.

“The things I do for the bit.” He sighs, shaking his head, and lifts the glass to his lips.

Slurp

Ah. Much better.

He sat down on the couch ramrod straight. The silence covered the room in suspense. The soft ticking of his clock seemed louder than usual. He crunched on a cookie and could’ve sworn it echoed.

“Now,“ He said aloud, “Where’s this deadly threat.”

Loud honking came from his roof in response. 

Wait.

Honking? 

He stood up while still holding his cookie. Great. Roof problems. He thought he got rid of those like, 8 chapters and two one-shots ago.

The honking got louder and was joined in by angry chittering. Oh, fuck him gently with a chainsaw, now the neighbors got involved too. Just great.

He groaned and opened his drapes to let the starlight in. Out in the corner of the window, he could see feathers flying and fur clumps. 

“Fucking animals.” Tommy sighed. Not the way he thought this was going to go. They’re gonna murder him or something?  He climbed the stairs, checking the outside thermostat regrettably as the red line dipped further down. The trap door swung open, and he popped his head out.

A raccoon and a duck are in the middle of biting each other angrily. They jumped in surprise and climbed onto his Ikea bench. Tommy scowled. 

“Bitch it’s 4 am. What the fuck is a duck doing on my roof.”

The duck honked at him and tried to move, but the raccoon hissed at it and pinned it down. 

“Not a duck.” The Racoon helpfully informed him. Tommy rolled his eyes. Raccoons are already paranoid to begin with but he just so happened to get the ones who work for the Racoon CIA or whatever.

“Yes thank you Anthony I’ll take care of it, you run off to wherever the fuck you do in this godless hour.”

[Night would like to inform the audience that there is a godless hour in between when Night and Day change shifts, but Tommy is spreading slander and misinformation. To the contrary, 4 am is still under the territory of Night. Thank you.]

The Racoon scoffed (how do they do that????) and gave the duck one more swipe before scampering down the roof into the Backrooms or something. Tommy exhaled loudly. The duck stared at him. With beady little eyes. 

…Yeah, he could see why the raccoon didn’t trust it. That thing looks like it’s the death threat he’s looking for. He walked towards the bench and the duck flapped its wings at him unhappily. 

“Now what are you doing here?” He narrowed his eyes. Yes he’s talking to a duck, it’s 4 am What else are you supposed to do, sleep? Ha! Sleep is for the weak! And we purge the weak-

“That’s not a duck.”

Tommy jumped and did a 180 to see a VERY CLOSE BODY HOLY SHIT PERSONAL SPACE-

He took multiple steps back and (totally) didn’t trip on his feet while doing so. By the time his brain registered ‘Hey there’s someone behind you’ He had already clocked the bright pink bubblegum hair and realized the fucking Blade was pulling a Batman.

He put a hand over his beating chest and took a deep breath. “Jesus fuck man could you give a guy a warning before you go Batman on him.”

“Batman is a vigilante. I murder people in cold blood.”

“…I don’t think you’d be able to pull off the all-black look anyways with that hair.”

Techno glared at him from under his cosplay mask that Tommy will never call anything else ever before reaching out to grab the duck. The duck had been watching their exchange like a tennis match, but when Techno made a move to grab it the duck ran. Wattled off the bench and ducked to hide behind Tommy. Which wasn’t very helpful since Tommy is built like a telephone pole but hey a man tries. Guess ducks are scared of Techno too. Not that Tommy is scared of him. He has one-upped ducks in that department at least. Fuck yeah.

Wait. Tommy finally heard what everyone had been saying to him for the past few paragraphs.

Not a duck???

Tommy narrowed his eyes at Techno. “You’re the second person to tell me that this isn’t a duck. So either you’re conspiring with the Racoon FBI or that’s not a duck.”

The Blade groaned in annoyance at Tommy’s bullshit (who doesn’t) and before Tommy could realize it, lunged for the duck. He grabbed the duck by the feet and swung it upside down while it struggled helplessly.

“OI THAT’S ANIMAL CRUELTY-“

“Tommy.” Blade interrupted him while shaking the duck aggressively, “Meet the sleaziest villain I’ve ever met, Quackity.”

Now that doesn’t sound right. Tommy scrunched up his nose in confusion. Pause. Record scratch dot mp3 or whatever people say nowadays.

“The villain is the duck.”

“No, he got turned into a duck.”

“Ohhhhh.”

He was amused at the irony of someone named Quackity turning into a duck. But why does that name sound familiar? If it’s a villain he must have heard him on the news or cleared out…His…wallet…

“Hold up,” he said while getting uncomfortably close to the duck, “Aren’t you the guy who tried to splash holy water and a rosary on me?”

The Blade emitted some kind of anger because of course, he’s never aware of his brother's shenanigans and friends, so he looked livid at the thought of the villain occupying Tommy’s home. Tommy would’ve lied if he said he didn’t preen just a little at that thought. Awww he does care.

“This fool has been bugging your home?” Techno grumbled angrily.

Tommy quickly shook his head and hands. “No no, Sirenbitchy mc fuck face is the one who’s the home invader, I just met this guy in a poker game once and cleared out his pockets.”

Techno lifted the still-struggling duck and pointed at it. The duck bit his finger but he clearly didn’t care. “You beat the king of cheating at his own game?” He said in an almost impressed tone. 

Impressed tone? 

Impressive tone! Fuck yeah!

“I'm just Luck’s Pookie Bear. What can I say, women love me.”

And usually, because you can’t get away with saying shit like that to a goddess, besties or not, something hard hit his head suddenly, and without warning three more things pelted him. 

“GYA-“

His head pounded like a bitch while he looked around for a source of his pain. Techno craned his head upwards to see if there was a ‘wrath of heaven’ which really should’ve been ‘Karma’ now that he thinks about it.

“What the fuck hit me?” Tommy complained, rubbing his poor injured head.

“There's nothing up there that I can see,” Techno remarked dully, clearly disappointed at the lack of heaven's wrath as if he wasn’t already a force of nature himself.

Tommy, curious, looked down to see the objects that hit him.

“Are those fucking tacos?!”

At that moment the duck exploded in a puff of feathers and appeared a short familiar man in a suit.

“Freeeeedom!” He shouted as he tried to run before getting yanked back by his collar with a “GURK-“. Techno grabbed Quackity’s suit and lifted him off his feet as if he weighed no more than a feather. Heh. Feather. Speaking of feathers, Quackity coughed out a couple of feathers from his mouth before whining, “Ey what gives? Can’t a man breathe after he was cursed unfairly.”

Techno spun Quackity around til they were almost nose to nose.

“This is solely your fault and you know it.” He said darkly. “Now did your sneaky friend do this on purpose or am I going to have to figure it out the hard way.”

Tommy shrieked (very manly he assures you) and separated the two villains from each other with his elbows. The two felt like bags of bricks which makes Tommy want to get a gym membership. Only these two brick bags were two violently different sizes which made Tommy feel very uneven and nauseous in his peripheral vision. 

“HEY. This is unofficially Switzerland, you can’t do violence on this roof. It’s a bitch to clean on the weekends.”

The two ignore him to stare menacingly at each other. Tommy thinks they just got lost in each other's eyes but if they thought that’s intimidating then what does he know? He’s not a villain.

He sent a bombastic side eye to Techno. “What the fuck are you two doing this early anyways.” He murmured breathlessly. Now he knows how Philza Minecraft feels all the time. He’s too young to be a father! He lives for chaos, not responsibility!

Techno jerked his head with a scowl towards Quackity who smiled with all teeth.

“His partner in crime Charlie set off a shapeshifting spell.”

Tommy rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“Why are you here then?”

“My motorcycle got turned into a horse.”

Tommy got a terrifying mental image of the Blade riding into a fight on a horse. Epic but very bizarre. And disturbing. He shook his head to clear his mind.

“So Charlie turned your bike into a horse and Quackity into a duck…for what reason?” He crossed his arms because fuck it was cold out here, and he wanted this conversation over with since yesterday.

Quackity shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” He paused before adding on, “And I never meant to be a duck, that was an accident.”

Techno rolled his eyes. “You had me chase you across the city and happen to take a route small animals could fit in.”

“Pause buddy, “ Tommy held up a time-out hand because he liked context as much as the next person-” If you came from across the city where’d you leave the horse?”

“…” 

“Dude. Don’t tell me you parked a horse in front of my apartment.”

Quackity snickered while Techno may be turned pink in the face. You couldn’t tell since he’s already covered in pink head-to-toe. It’s giving that one meme of the guy in a pink suit challenging Bane- oh we’re getting off-topic. Mb.

“Of course not.” He muttered, “It’s on the roof a block down from here.”

Tommy was struck with a clear image of Techno carrying a horse from rooftop to rooftop chasing a duck.

“That is a beautiful visual.”

Quackity coughed out feathers from his mouth dying of silent laughter.

Techno turned his back on the two of them and looked very interested in the sword he left stabbed in the rooftop garden. But ol’ Tommy can’t resist the chance to belittle him further because he’s just a cruel young adult like that.

“So you, you just carried a fucking horse around, like picked it up?” Tommy pushed his hair out of his forehead while snickering. “That’s fucking wild man. Holy shit. Forget Batman, that’s some Incredible Hulk shit going on-“

Techno stared at him dead in the eye and refused to blink. He looked like a fish in a .5 filter. Tommy faltered from his fucking around and glanced nervously at Quackity. Quackity looked like he just shit his pants and had someone tell him that ‘Hey! Your family’s going to be murdered!’

Techno slowly stalked up to Tommy and whispered into his ear-

“May I use your restroom?”

Tommy glanced up to see his poker face, then at Quackity, who audibly gulped. 

“Sure big man.” He said not breaking eye contact with Quackity nor dropping his serious face as well.

Has he ever mentioned how fun it is to gaslight people?

Techno grunted and started to move but Quackity was one step ahead and scrambled out of his way. The shorter man physically swan-dived over his IKEA™ bench to hide behind it, feet poking over like a cartoon character. Techno ignored him and invited himself into Tommy’s apartment.

“Fuck fuck fuck, where’s he going?!” Quackity peeked over the bench to Tommy, who walked over and sat down on the bench. Resting time bitches. Hydrate or die straight. He wanted to watch the sunrise since he realized it was starting. Might as well since it could be his last! Dun dun dun!

 The sky started shifting tones and the sun was peeking over the horizon like a mom with a flashlight looking through a teen's hidden collection.

Woah, who spiked his cookies with funny powder? That was some crazy AF metaphor. 

Quackity grabbed both of Tommy’s shoulders and shook him violently, which you should never do when said man was trying to watch a sunrise. It’s his Moment™ How dare a side character, nay, a background character try and interrupt it.

“What’s he getting-“

“If you don’t sit your ass down right now and watch the sunrise with me I’ll give you insomnia insanity for a month.” Tommy said calmly, not looking away from the sky.”

“…”

Tommy heard the man silently get up, dust himself off, and sit down beside him like a boy who was scolded at church. Ashamed. As he should be, Tommy doesn’t like snapping but he’s got limits too. He’s human after all. 

Totally. WINK WINK. NUDGE NUDGE.

Ok seriously who tampered with his cookies-

“Hey, you’re a civilian right?” 

Quackity interrupted the silence since he’s the type of fucker who can’t enjoy a MOMENT. Honestly the sheer AUDACITY-

Wait what did he just say-

Tommy whipped his head around to look at him.”Finally, someone said it!” He scoffed, leaning back and crossing his legs and arms. Honestly. He’s just a normal guy. 

Maybe this Quackity guy isn’t so bad if he truly sees Tommy as someone who shouldn’t be involved with this bullshit all the time-

“Can you chaperone a date I have with a hero?”

“Can I do what”

His look must’ve been murderous cause Quackity scrambled off the chair and ran to the edge of the roof. 

“I KNOW THIS IS LAST MINUTE BUT I NEED A NON-INVOLVED PARTY THANKS IN ADVANCE!” He yelled as he climbed over the barrier and onto the edge. “I’LL DM YOU THE TIME AND PLACE!”

Before Tommy could respond Quackity jumped off the building and slowly floated down onto the next building’s window ledge.  He ran on the thin casting and did some parkour that looked like it was in slow motion.

“Ok,” Tommy admitted, “That was pretty badass- wait…”

This is probably what his alarm clock was warning about.

Damnit.

<>

Tommy sat on top of his desk eating the most delicious fucking crepe he’s ever had.

“Honestly Blade, I never took you for the cooking type,” he said between bites.

Yes audience, the legendary Blade felt bad about ruining his morning so he made crepes to make up for it. Tommy honestly didn’t give a fuck cause he’s (begrudgingly) used to awful mornings but hey, free food is the best type of food.

“I took cooking classes in France once,” Techno said while mixing some extra batter for Tommy to enjoy for tomorrow. He’s such a nice guy?! (Mind you he’s still using Tommy’s ingredients but it went to something way more delicious than what he was going to use it for anyway.)

“France? The fuck? Why so far?”

“Rich.”

“Ah.” Tommy sighed. “As a fellow dedicated chef, I salute your enthusiasm but honestly. Learning a new language just to take a cooking class is a bit petty in my opinion.”

“Tu peux te mettre cette opinion dans le cul, hypocrite.”

(“You can shove that opinion up your ass you hypocrite.”)

“Uh, Bon 'appetit’ to you too.”

He licked the rest of the chocolate off the plate like a very civil human adult, and threw his plate to the ceiling for Vaatwasmachine -he messaged Tubbo a while back that the sentiment oobleck survived and from there it stood trial in his friend's test lab where they happily named it Vaatwasmachine, or Vaat for short-

Vaat happily cleaned the plate and used its funny gravity abilities to send the clean dish into the cabinet.

Techno, who seems like the type of guy to have never seen a sentiment blob before, looked quite disturbed at the ceiling. 

“What is that…” he narrowed his eyes. “Is it stabbable?”

“Anything’s stabbable if you try hard enough.”

Tommy sent him a quick salute before falling onto the couch. From there he took a moment to appreciate such wise words and-

Fuck he’s got work today. Tommy craned his head as far as possible without moving the rest of his body to look at the time. 

[8:37]

Hmmm. He smashed his head back into the cushions. Eh. He’ll be fine. The morning’s ruined, so it can’t get any worse!

[every spirit within a 5-mile (8.05 km) radius took that personally]

He opened his eyes from their quick little Power Nap™ and glanced at Techno standing on a chair, hair pinned up in a bandanna, poking Vaat with a broom.

“Oi, leave my dishwasher alone, Vaat is harmless mostly.”

“Vaat?”

“No, Vaat .”

Techno looked back and forth between Vaat and Tommy. 

“A hundred intrusive thoughts tell me otherwise.”

Tommy sent him some half-hearted finger guns before feeling some of the gravity move in the corner of the apartment, sending his hair angling toward his TV screen. It felt sorta like he sat at the back of a Roller coaster. Hehe.

Luckily the Blade hasn’t noticed in favor of moving on to wiping down the counters and sanitizing??? Seriously, where had he been when Tommy was baking cookies? This guy is truly Gordon Ramsey’s OP. He probably deals with Food Wars type stuff daily.

“Where did you even get that thing?” Techno inquired, snapping Tommy out of both his internal monologue and laziness.

“Oh, fucking Siren can’t cook for shit and made it when he fucked around in my kitchen without permission.”

Techno facepalmed and leaned against the kitchen counter. “Who let him cook?” He grumbled.

““LET ‘EM COOK-“ they said, “it’ll be fun,” they said,” Tommy quoted, as a man who never passes up an opportunity. He’s also pretty sure he’s tripping on some drug because everything feels oddly unreal now that daylight is streaming through his windows.

Uh oh. Is this a fever dream? Is he sick? This isn’t good-

Techno awkwardly pointed to the door after a long stretch of silence in which Tommy internally fought his demons. “Should I- I should get going now?”

Tommy took a deep breath and tossed himself up from the couch. Maybe he’s just in one of those cloudy days moods, where time isn’t real and your body feels heavier than it should be. Moving around a bit ought to help him. He shook his head and slapped both his cheeks.

“Right! Uh sorry, I’m a bit drowsy,” he admitted to a full-blown awkward Techno standing at the door. “Come over whenever you want honestly, I never see you!” He whined while opening the door for the pink-haired man. 

“Uhhhh sure?”

“Seriously, Wilbur always steals my food, I’d rather have a guest to cook with instead.”

Techno patted him on his shoulders and walked away, waving over his shoulder. 

“I’ll hold you to that when I do my midnight cooking.”

Tommy pumped a fist behind the door when Techno walked out of site.

“Midnight cooking session fuck yeah!”

<> Work Intermission<>

“Ohhhh I’m in a food coma! No wonder I felt weird, I was hungry and ate the best fucking breakfast ever, that’s enough to drain the energy of an average morning Riser.”

“…Uh, can I take my order now?” The guy stared at him from the cash register where Tommy was suddenly enlightened on his shitty mood during his work hours. 

Not the most convenient, but at least he’s got a reason for his laziness. Tommy leaned against the counter and narrowed his eyes at the guy.

“I don’t know, can you?” He jeered.

<> Work Intermission over<>

Tommy, dressed in a sweater vest and black jeans, leaned against a light pole by the Crime Line. 

The Crime Line was just some make-believe border between the downtown area where heroes are most likely to be seen, and the entertainment district where GTA becomes a real-life scenario. 

Usually standing around the border is a death sentence but Tommy had the misfortune of getting a text message on Tinder??? Telling him to meet him there at 5 pm.

How Quackity found him on Tinder is beyond him but then again this man is from the entertainment district so it’s probably a natural sort of intimidation.

But as he mindlessly turned his phone in his hand over and over again, he realized the message wasn’t as creepy as it was awkward in hindsight. Who internet-stalks people on Tinder? Isn’t it faster and easier on Instagram?

He popped off his phone case and stuck it back on repeatedly. It’s a nervous habit and he’s aware of it, but at least it’s something to do with his hands. He showed up about 5 minutes early due to habit from his job but the entire area was empty and it made him feel out of place. Plans for things always gave him a small sense of dread, as if he got some information wrong and made a fool of himself.

It doesn’t help that he has no idea what he’s supposed to be doing. Curse his lack of context rule! He hardly has any experience talking with classmates about their love lives, much less dating itself. All knowledge comes from cheesy Netflix originals. 

Why can’t he go back to a familiar love? Platonic besties and shit. It’s an ocean he’s set sail on and can brave its waters easier than a child running down the playground into the protective loving arms of their guardian-

“EY TOMAS!” A voice called out from behind him, causing him to lose grip on his phone and watch as it tumbled to the floor. He instinctively kicked his leg out, the phone flew across the street, and a bus came out of nowhere and slammed into it. Tommy’s jaw slowly fell open in horror and a heavy weight draped over him on the shoulder. 

“Holy shit, did that just happen?” Quackity remarked from his position of trying (and failing) to wrap his arm around Tommy’s much taller build.

“You know what… I think I had that coming.” Tommy stared off into the distance where the phone bounced off the sidewalk and slid into the gutter.

Quackity shook his head sadly. “Ah. I should’ve recognized the work of Karma. The only reason shit like that happens is Karma insists on making overly dramatic consequences so you know it was them.”

Tommy glanced over at Quackity, who had the solemn look of someone well-informed of the subject.

“Don’t worry kid, I’ll buy you a new phone.” He patted Tommy on his shoulder before retreating out of Tommy’s personal space. It looks like he gave up on trying to be friendly and touchy. Maybe it’s because he’s trying to make their relationship seem more close, seeing how the only times Tommy ever interacted with the older guy was when he was drunk in the night and a duck on the roof.

Mmm, new information acquired. 

Touch starved. Haha, bitch. Got’em. But then again who isn’t-

Quackity halted that train of thought when he asked, “What’d you even do to get Karma on your trail?”

While talking, he gestured his head over signaling Tommy to follow him. They both walked down parallel to the border. “We’re meeting up with my date at Boatem Ave by the way,” he added.

Tommy nodded his head, walking to the right side of him. He scratched the back of his head, trying to remember what he was doing to get his phone yeeted- Oh yeah. Depressing internal monologue.

“I threatened the ‘pure crack’ tag.”

“Que.”

“I got too serious and almost lost my plot armor. But we’re good now.”  

If the look on Big Q’s face said anything, he didn’t seem to be convinced. “Don’t worry my phone will come back, I just got it taken away for a Bit,” Tommy reassured him and waved his hand away. “Trust the process, bro.”

Quackity narrowed his eyes and muttered something in Spanish that Tommy didn’t catch before clearing his throat.

“Right! So I see you got my message on Tinder about the location but now it’s time to talk tactics.”

Tommy faltered his steps for a second before questioning, “Why did you text me on Tinder?” And then, “What do you mean, TACTICS?!”

Quackity chuckled and looked away, grabbing his phone out of his pocket. “I’m going on a date with Sapnap, so I just want to inform you about the deal we made. The Tinder was because I was already messaging him on there and I didn’t want to switch apps.”

“Wow,” Tommy breathed in horror, “People do get more lazy the more advanced technology gets.”

Quackity choked and coughed into his sleeve to cover it up. Tommy knew better but chose to keep quiet. He’s so close to figuring out what’s going to happen. 

“Anyways,” Quackity said diverting the conversation, “ I’ve been stalking Sapnap on Tinder, totally as a prank. Definitely. I think. But then whenever we run into each other at work he’s always so uptight and frustrated and we always say the worst things to each other.”

Tommy nodded along, as one does when someone rants about their love life and you can’t say anything.

“So I figured that if I take him on a date, off duty, of course, he’ll be less stressed out and see my inner charm and personality outside of a dating app.” Quackity pulled out a comb from his pocket and ran it through his hair. Tommy is judging his personality on the fact he carries a comb around like that. Really now. Poor Sapnap.

Actually, no, not really. He doesn’t give a fuck.

“So we decided to meet as long as we bring one civilian chaperone each to keep any funny business from happening.” Quackity continued while Tommy immediately went to internally judge the way he looked for going on a date.

Hair slicked back? 6/10 could’ve put more effort since it’s a simple average look.

White dress shirt with suspenders and slacks? Is he going to work? A funeral? Way too formal. 3/10

Tommy mentally shook his head. Isn’t a first date supposed to be more casual since you’re getting to know a person more intimately? 

“…so just sit there, look pretty, and distract the other civilian Sapnap brings so I can use my villainous charm to woo him over-“

Well, that was an awkward place to focus back into the conversation. “So I don’t have to talk to Sapnap then right?” Tommy questioned even though Quackity probably already told him. 

“Nooooo, just pretend to be in such awe of meeting a hero and act as if you only know my civilian identity.”

Tommy scrunched up his nose. “You got a civilian identity?”

Quackity opened his mouth, furrowed his brows, and then closed his mouth. A beat later, ”It’s a secret identity.”

“So your villain persona is your actual life as a businessman in the industry, and your secret identity is not connected in any way to the entertainment district but as a normal person,” Tommy clarified. It doesn’t sound like a bad idea if he thinks about it. Having no secret identity and living a double life at the same time. Pog.

“Shhhhh cabrón you think things through too much.”

Tommy shrugged. “Fine then. But what are you gonna do when Sapnap recognizes me?”

“Wha-“

Quackity whips his head around to Tommy as they finally arrive at what he assumes to be their destination. He assumes this because he sees two guys sitting on the sidewalk like children before video games existed. Bored. One of them, who Tommy disappointedly recognized as Sapnap, was holding a magnifying glass and held it up towards the sun to burn some dry leaves on the ground. He looked up to the sound of their footsteps, and upon seeing Quackity, made a small grin. 

Before bursting into absolute horror at seeing Tommy.

“YOU,” he shouted, looking more and more violent by the second.

“I legally don’t know you!” Tommy shouted cupping his hands to his mouth. He was preparing another retort before a new voice joined in.

“YO WE GOT THE WHOLE GANG HERE!”

Oh no.

The guy standing behind Sapnap, dressed in a horrible purple Hawaiian patterned button-down, was none other than Purpled.

Tommy’s face contorted into disgust as he and Purpled stood face to face. He should’ve known Fate would’ve pulled some shit like this.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Tommy whispered angrily. And he meant every word. Purpled tended to steal his jokes. And the fewer jokes he makes, the less likely he is to recover his “crack-fic” status, which means more of Karma's punishments. And they’re bound to become more deadlier than the last.

“For your information, I am SAVING you.” Purpled hissed back. Sapnap and Quackity stared at the two in confusion, and they flipped both of them off.

“How?!”

“Boss lady sent me. Said you got some crazy death fortune if you don’t commit funny.” Purpled contorted his features into a deadly serious stare. “It’s hard to be chaotic as a third wheel. I’m here to ruin this date.”

Tommy blinked. That's oddly considerate and cruel of him. But that’s just who Purpled is.

“Fine,” Tommy grumbled and looked away from that piercing eye contact. Uck. He doesn’t like how this is going. 

“Alright then,” Purpled plastered on a smile with all teeth as he patted Tommy on the back. “Follow my lead and everything will go exactly as planned.”

Tommy sighed so loudly it could’ve been a groan and followed Purpled back to where Sapnap and Quackity were watching them with suspicion.

“Well, the council of chaperones has decided that some introductions will be necessary.” Purpled recited like a talk show host. 

He pointed to Sapnap. “This is Sapnap.”

He pointed to Tommy. “This is Tommy.”

He pointed to Quackity. “This is Sapnaps date.”

Then he opened up his arms wide. “Any questions?”

The two explode into complaints of “Who the fuck are yo-“ and “Why are you conspiring with HIM-“

Lady Night please save him. He cleared his throat and they all froze from where they were going at each other's throats. It's going to be a long day.

“Quackity, you instigated this date, don’t you have to say something nice to Sapnap so officially start?” Tommy explained carefully like a preschool teacher.

“Ah yes!” Quackity said, turning to Sapnap. The tension seemed to be replaced by anxiousness and excitement, as Quackity grabbed Sapnaps hand and locked eyes with him.

“Hey gorgeous, “ Quackity said with confidence only a man who owns every prostitution business in the city can have, “Are you trash ‘cause I wanna take you out ;]”

Yeah, Tommy is starting to regret being a chaperone.

<>

Tommy may not be an expert on relationships and dating, but he’s prettyyyy sure there’s no way people only flirt through cringy pickup lines. It’s unbearable. Someone save him.

Quackity held Sapnap’s hand walking down a path in the park they wandered into. These idiots chose a location to meet, but no real focus on what they wanted to do. Purpled says having someone’s presence is enough but that’s just bullshit. Tommy wants some free food or a free movie ticket damn it.

“Hey Guapo did you punch me just now because you took my breath away,” Quackity whispered into Sapnaps ear but loud enough that the chaperones could hear from 10 steps behind the main couple. Purpled was happily munching on popcorn, the bastard.

Tommy rubbed his face tiredly. “They’ve been at it every other sentence.” He groaned. “Is this what they’ve been doing on Tinder the entire time?” 

Purpled shushed him. “I got a plan. Watch.”

He grabbed Tommy by the wrist and jogged up to the other two, where they heard-

“Then you must be a bank loan 'cause you have my interest.”

Tommy cried inside while Purpled took the lead. He tapped their shoulders and the two jumped in the air like teens caught in the act.

“What,” Sapnap growled. Honestly, they’re doing him a favor by interrupting Quackity's awful flirting.

“I have realized that we have not completed our responsibilities as chaperones and we have come to apologize,” Purpled said solemnly.

Quackity waved him off. “Yes yes that’s fine, but we’re in the middle of something-“

“It’s time to give you the shovel talk.”

Quackity blue screened. “I-I already have a body count, you’re a bit too late for that.”

Sapnap looked at his date bewildered. “I think you’re confusing a definition, but what do you mean you have a body count?!”

“Every night for 2 years, a different person every time. Just to prove I could. Does that answer your question?”

Tommy facepalmed. Who would say that on their date?

Purpled took everything in stride which means he’s probably taking classes in ‘bullshitting’. He reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a really. Really. Long shovel- how did that even fit in there-

“This is John. I know how to swing him into skulls.” He narrowed his eyes as the couple locked up in front of him. “Practice safe sex or get a free nose job done by John.”

Sapnap stood there speechless while Quackity grabbed the inside of his arm and slowly guided him away from the two college students.

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head slowly. “I don’t think that’s what the shovel talk is.” He said, giving up on life.

Purpled swung the shovel- sorry JOHN towards Tommy, making him duck for cover before getting his head chopped off. 

“John’s feelings are hurt. How dare you. Say sorry.”

“HE'S TRYING TO KILL MEEEE-“ Tommy whipped his head around to see Quackity and Sapnap speed walking away from them in an attempt to ditch their “chaperones”.

“Oí! Come back here!”

Tommy ran up to them with Purpled following in his footsteps. 

“Jeez man, you can’t leave me there with this weirdo-“ Tommy started saying before Quackity grabbed his shoulder and guided him away from the other two. Whaaa-

“Hold on Tommy, I gotta have a little talk with you.”

“I plead the fifth.” Tommy looked over his shoulder to see Purpled begrudgingly being guided away by Sapnap similarly. He guessed they suspected something was up. Tommy would too, if he was in their shoes. Doesn’t take a genius to be seriously unhinged.

“Listen man-“ Quackity began before Tommy interrupted him. 

“I didn’t agree to come here to watch some inappropriate shit flirting that sounds like it was written for some shit fanfiction.” He crossed his arms and huffed.

Quackity shook a finger at him and squawked in outrage. 

“Excuse me, I'm Inappropriate? Motherfucker. I own stock in practically EVERY prostitution company here- but that’s beside the point. You two are CONSPIRING behind my back, I didn’t ask you here to be buddy buddy and RUIN my date. I just want you to intimidate him into not trying anything like being LEGAL.”

Tommy took a deep breath. Stupid adults and stupid date. He let it out and said, “Listen, I am not responsible for anything that happens. It’s the other guy, Purpled, that’s starting shit. For once, I genuinely don’t want to do things.”

Quackity softened a bit at that, sighed, and looked away. “Listen man I don’t know about that civilian guy but, keep him from messing up my night alright?”

Tommy nodded, figuring he at least owed it to stop Purpled, not for the couple with their shit flirting, but for his peace of mind.

Quackity sent him a nod back, and they walked back to join the other two. Purpled made a beeline for Tommy and immediately yelled, “Hey I got a funny idea-“

Sapnap looks seconds away from fuming as Tommy responds, “I don’t trust your ideas anymore dude.”

Purpled also ignored him because clearly, he was living in his world at this point. “What if we speedrun flirting and kiss and pretend to become a couple to rub it in their faces that they’re awful at this.”

Oh fuck wait that’s actually funny. But no, Tommy doesn’t want to get up to shit anymore, he’s out of his comfort zone. Quick, say something offensive or something.

“I’m not sure I can commit to the bit.” He explained.

 “Why not?!”

“Cause that’s kinda gay bro.” 

Oh yeah. He’s great at this.

Purpled quietly pondered this while Sapnap and Quackity whispered quietly to each other while glancing at their conversation. Purpled cleared his throat. “Point taken yes, however, counterpoint, I have 20 bucks.”

Damnit.

“Well shit 20 bucks is 20 bucks c'mere man.”

He gestured Purpled over before Quackity, his new savior stuck out a hand.

“Ok, no stop.” He pushed them apart. “That’s gay and we’re in Public.”

Tommy and Purpled sent each other the most befuddled looks they could make.

What the fuck? Could this guy be any more insane? Who ate his brain cells?

Quackity cleared his throat awkwardly and looked away. “…And Siren told me that you can’t have your first kiss while he’s not around to take a photo.”

Purpled dropped his jaw. “First kiss?! Holy shit come here dude I want first dibs!”

Sapnap also saved Tommy by picking up Purpled from the waist and carrying him fireman-style away. “NO- that’s it. Fucking terrible idea. I’m not a babysitter. How do you control fucking kids? Food, right? Do you buy them food? Shit, hey Alexa, where's the nearest food place or something.”

Quackity and Tommy watched Sapnap carry away a thrashing Purpled. Tommy locked eyes with Quackity. “You can still save this date right?” He challenged him.

 Quackity furrowed his brows. “I may have to pull this out earlier than I would’ve liked, but yes.”

He ran up to Sapnap who was desperately trying to google the nearest food place. He plucked the phone out of the taller guy's hand and said sheepishly, “Hey I already know a food place around here, why don’t we go there? You’d like the food, I think.”

Sapnap grimaced while Purpled screamed bloody murder as quietly as possible. “Fuck it. We’re not making any progress here anyways.”

<•>

And that’s how they ended up ordering spicy nachos in a food truck somewhere in some sketchy alleyway.

Tommy looked at the suspicious blood stain on the concrete a few feet away from them. The food truck provided some plastic chairs and tables while they waited for their food, but the fact the sun already dipped past the buildings just made the area look more and more like an easy place to be murdered.

“Big Q no offense but this place is shit.”

Tommy glared at Quackity who smirked and patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. It did nothing to calm him down.

“Ah, but you see, the more sketchy the place is, the better the food is. That’s just street knowledge for you.” 

“The streets are shit,” Tommy complained. “Why couldn’t we go to the movies or something? I would maybe kill for some buttery popcorn right now.”

Meanwhile, from across the table Purpled was doing his best to test Sapnaps anger issues, and see how long it’ll take before Sapnap melts the plastic chair he’s sitting in.

“Sapnap, Sapnap, Sapnap, Sapnap-.”

“What.”

“I'm hungry.”

“OH MY GOD-“

It was not going well. (For Sapnap. The chair was starting to get charred.)

Quackity sent Tommy some puppy eyes in a plea to get Tommy to distract Purpled again so Quackity could get back to his date. Tommy sighed, recalculated how much he was going to owe him after this, and turned to Purpled.

“Hey, do you want to play a game?”

Purpled violently turned to face him, shaking the table and startling the other two. “Bet.”

Shit. Now he has to think of a game that probably wasn’t on Pinterest, otherwise he would’ve seen it already.

…

[activating final brain cell]

Ok, he’s got it. It’s a shit idea, but it might just work. He leaned in close to Purpled and spoke in a low tone to set the mood.

“This is pure content-worthy mate, if this doesn’t appease the gods I don’t fucking know what will.” 

Purpled rubbed his two hands together like an off-brand villain. “I love clickbaitable shit, I’m so in.”

Tommy pulled out his phone. “Right so open YouTube-“ he glanced over at the couple (who were flirting) to see if they didn’t mind a little cellphone use at the table (it’s very rude and Tommy normally disapproves of it, but desperate times and all).

Purpled held his phone out like a gun cartridge and narrowed his eyes at Tommy. “Now what.” 

This guy takes his games very seriously Tommy realizes now. 

“Choose a popular well-known movie.” Tommy continues while clearing the last tabs he had open. (He’s very confused about how 10 hours of silence occasionally broken up by falling metal pipe got into his history but he’s blaming Ranboo for no reason other than he’s tall.)

“Iron Man.”

“Oddly specific but ok.” Tommy says without missing a beat, “Now make a YouTube playlist and collect as many clips from the movie as possible to build the entire thing. The first person to get the most footage from the movie in the correct order wins.”

Purpled covered his mouth with his hand. “…dude. Holy shit.” He stated. “That’s actually fire.”

Tommy internally thanks Luck for all those times that he and Tubbo invented cursed challenges at midnight. He's channeling his magic of two am here. 

AAHH. He said the thing. All is going to be well in the world. He’s back on brand.

Like and subscribe or whatever the fuck. He’s pretty sure saying that shit is enough to please the spirits. 

It’s been a journey, thank you all for coming… Wait, now isn’t the time for an Oscar speech, it’s time to wrap this train wreck up.

“Why are there so many repeat clips…” Purpled muttered as he aggressively swiped the phone screen. Yes, problem One is taken care of. Tommy looks at the direction of Problem Couple™. They’re making out. He missed some character development. Oh well. Problem Two was taken care of. 

Their food conveniently chose that time to be ready, leaving Tommy to get their huge fucking nacho order. Like holy shit. Those nachos were PACKED.

“Heyyy foods here!” Said Sapnap, who considerably lightened up and was in a better mood. Possibly the best all night. 

Quackity joyfully grabbed two plates covered in hot sauce and started bragging about the spice level. Tommy can’t handle spice, so he’s staying away from those two who started feeding each other like lovesick puppies. Ew.

He got the plainest cheese nachos they had. Like a vanilla bitch. “B i t e  m e.”

Purpled, oddly enough, got a coffee? And some weird pizza-nacho blend that makes Tommy want to commit self-defenestration to avoid looking at it.

(Cross using the word defenestration off your Tommyinnit fic bingo cards everyone. Fuck it’s getting late out, when was the last time he slept?)

Purpled took his playlist movie challenge to heart and refused to put the phone down while eating which triggered Tommy in a way he does not want to be at 10 o'clock. (Fuck it’s 10 o clock?!) “Mate please, put your phone down for one freaking minute.”

Purpled looked up at him for a second and glared, before going back to eating and scrolling.

Tommy looked up at the stars. “I’m seriously at my fucking limit.” He stated. “Like properly over this.”

The world grayed out a little as time slowed down. It was like someone pressed a pause button. 

 The moon shone a bit brighter. Well bit hard to tell since it was a waxing crescent but you get the point.

“Oh. Was Purpled a bit of an overstep?”

“He was a MASSIVE one. I want out.” He paused for a second. “Please.”

Now he doesn’t ask much from Night, with all his complaining, but he knows when he’s rightfully frustrated she’ll respect his boundaries.

“Don’t worry, I’ll bring you home.” She said softly. “Don’t worry about Purpled. I’ll have him cut back.”

Tommy breathed out a sigh of relief and closed his eyes, letting a warm draft blow softly past him. When he opened his eyes it was to the glorious site of his living room.

He felt the tensions he didn’t even realize he had slowly left as he melted onto the couch. What was odd was that the curtain that covered his trap door was already drawn. Quite peculiar.

And then his clock struck 12. Am.

“Wha- what do you mean midnight?!” He shouted. He scrambled towards the nearest window (trapdoor) and craned his head towards the night sky.

“Why's it so late?” He sputtered.

“Ah, I forgot to say that I didn’t teleport you, I fast-forwarded time so nobody would panic or become distressed.”

“So you’re telling me that I was doing things and I don’t even remember it.”

“…kinda? It was off camera-“

Tommy ran his fingers through his hair and sighed.

“What even happened after I left? Just, give me a recap.” He begged.

“Mmm, I believe at some point after the food truck, the cursed fireman and the luck-blessed man ran into Karl.” Night explained. “I don’t know what he is but they seemed to enjoy his company if you catch my drift.”

Tommy blinked. “I do not.”

“A-well that’s fine. Anyways,” she continued, “Purpled dragged you off 'cause he didn’t like being outnumbered but in my opinion, I think he just didn’t want to 4th wheel.”

Tommy scoffed and crossed his arms. “Finally he does something good for once this episode.” He muttered. “Wait, what did you say he did with my body?”

“Took you home and played your video games for a while. He just left.”

“HEY. HE BETTER HAVE NOT TAKEN MY HIGH SCORE IN TETRIS.”

“Go to sleep idiot.”

<•>

As Tommy walked around the next morning feeling like shit, (it was Monday and he had work) he tripped over a box on the floor by the front door. Somebody moved it there. Like an asshole. He scoffed, wondering why the fuck the box was so heavy.

Upon further investigation, he realized there was a logo on the side.

“Schlatt & co”

“No fucking way.” He said, immediately forgetting about being angry at the box.

He pulled the tape off of the top and opened it to a note. Underneath the note was a nearly folded suit and a dismantled gun that lay atop it like a bird in the nest.

The note was written with the crummiest writing Tommy had ever seen but he didn’t care because he knew who wrote it.

To that blond guy

Pretty sure I owe you this. I was fucking drunk but Charlie said so and Charlie is Charlie. I dunno if you fucking know how to use this thing. If you want help just like, I dunno send me an email or some shit. People send emails, right?

Whatever. Enjoy your new Tommy submachine gun.”

Fuck yeah. He’s got a gun named after him.

Chapter Text

YOU’VE GOT MAIL

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Topic: G U N (not spam!!!)

Yo. It’s ya boi Tommyinnit. I eagerly await to learn how to use a gun and I want to meet up asap.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Topic: Re: G U N (not spam!!!)

Who the fuck is this.

Sent from iphone

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Topic: Re: G U N (not spam!!!)

[ID: image with a picture of Tommyinnit taking a selfie in a suit carrying a gun]

It’s me ya boi, Tommyinnit, haver of wives, slayer of bitches.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Topic: Re: G U N (not spam!!!)

Oh god your holding it wrong. Your disrespecting every mob leader ever. They’re turning in their graves. For gods sake don’t touch the damn thing.

Sent from iphone

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Topic: Re: G U N (not spam!!!)

Dude you promised to show me how to gun. Teach me how to gun. You got me a fucking gun and didn’t even give me bullets. This is a scam. I demand justice. 

AND GIVE ME YOUR NUMBER EMAILS FUCKING SUCK ASS. CALL ME INSTEAD DICKWAD.”

“(X) XXX-XXX-XXX”

New Message(s) from “Schlocks”

Schlocks:

Did no one teach you the rules of the internet kid? Rule one is do not share your personal information. 

It’s me ya boi (Tommyinnit):

No it’s not. Rule one is “you don’t talk about /b/“ cmon man, there’s a whole fucking list but nooooo everyone only cares about rule 34 >:(

But I digress. WHO THE FUCK R U CALLING CHILD I AM LITERALLY PAST DRUNKING AGE

Schlocks:

“Drunking age”.

It’s me ya boi (Tommyinnit):

Kys

Schlocks:

Childish. I rest my case.

It’s me ya boi(Tommyinnit):

[gif of a person flashing the middle finger]

Schlocks:

This is why I hate texting. 

Charlie told me to say he already changed my damn schedule so.

Meet me at #### Manburg drive @ 9am tmr.

It’s me ya boi(Tommyinnit):

Fuck yeah. I’m totally saving this number on my phone anyways

Schlocks:

This could’ve been an email.

[Schlocks has blocked this contact.]

(-o-)

Tommy shut all the blinds in his house the moment he got home and locked every door. He pushed his furniture to the walls, making as much space in the middle of the room as possible. He grabbed a bottle of chocolate Nesquik syrup, scrunched up his nose, and with a deep breath poured the bottle out to draw a circle on the floor. 

“My poor floors.” He wailed aloud.

When the bottle ran out, he grabbed a couple of candles he made the other day (they weren’t carved sadly, he lost his tools last time tubbo visited) and set them around the circle. Grabbing a lighter, he turned off the lights around the room and lit the candles.

“This is totally going to backfire on me, I can feel it.” He muttered before sitting in the middle of the circle and closed his eyes.

“HUUMMMMMMMM.” He yelled loudly, while silently hoping the neighbors don’t come to investigate.

“OH GREAT POWERFUL SPIRITS, HEAR MY PLEA.” 

Tommy cleared his throat. “Sorry uh, didn’t really mean to be that loud.”

He opened his eyes and stared into the fourth wall.

“There are only two powers in this universe who can override my sleep curse, and guys please, I want to be well rested for my gun arc.”

He brushed his fingers through his hair nervously. “Like cmon, I’ll do a trade for a trade, eye for evil or whatever the quote is.”

A small fire appears in front of him, breaking his eye contact and burning a spot in his night vision. He rubbed his eyes to clear it, and when he opened them, he nearly wept with joy.

The Forbidden Texts™ (aka the prompt list) hovered in front of him, and there was a prompt that he desperately needed.

“FUCK YEAH. Oh Archiver who goes by ‘uselessEngineer’, bless me with your power and allow me to have a peaceful nights rest!”

The prompt that was written by said archiver glowed brightly, but in the split second before it got to bright to look at, Tommy noticed another prompt had started to glow. Before he could make it out however, the paper caught fire again and disappeared, leaving behind…

A pop tart. 

Hey free food. The consequences of his actions are now a future Tommyinnit problem. Tonight, he feasts like a king.

He caught the pop tart from the air before it could fall and cracked his back as he stood up. It was a bit embarrassing now that the moment was over but goddamnit he was going to fucking shoot a gun tomorrow and get there at 9 o clock if it’s the last thing he does.

With a munch of his poptart and a swipe of the floor mop (the chocolate was going to attract ants), he made his way to his bedroom and crossed his fingers.

(-o-)

So the next morning he woke up at 7.

A.M.

In the fucking morning.

“LETS FUCKING GOOOO!” Tommy yelled, pumping his fists in the air and shaking his bedframe with his celebration. 

“NINE HOURS OF FUCKING SLEEP, USELESSENGINEER YOU ARE ANYTHING BUT useless!”

He scrambled out of bed and skipped happily to the closet where he left the suit ready for this very day. It’s expensive fabric and elegant buttons made Tommy want to squeal in delight.

He slipped it on, only struggling for a second to tie his tie. (It’s been a while since he did one- not cause he’s fatherless guys I know you were all thinking it but stfu-).

After getting some important things for the day, he made his way out his apartment, locking the door behind him and cheerfully climbed down the stairs. He’s never appreciated the morning light shining through the apartment more. It almost makes him forget about the college finals coming up.

Almost.

Eh, it’s not apart of the plot right now. Onwards!

He waved down the bus that had luckily began passing by. There were so many people around and they looked so much more friendlier. Mostly people who looked to be heading to jobs but the crowd carried a positive energy to it that made Tommy feel like he could tackle anything.

He pulled up his phone and sent a quick smiley face at Tubbo to give the guy a heart attack at how early he’s up in the morning. The lack of response did nothing to smother his good mood.

The security guards at the front desk however…

“What do you mean step aside? Just cause the fucking metal detectors don’t fuck with me doesn’t mean shit! I’ve got an appointment with the head honcho and I’ll have you know I’ll-“

The security guard grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him away from the door.

“HEY HEY-“

The big skyscraper that was located in downtown L’manburg was a beautiful sight to see, but The security was known to be tight since it was a favorite spot for villains to blow up/ hold hostage/ take over. Tommy has no idea how that works, since the owner is in kahoots with said villains but.

“Sir I’m going to have to ask you to put your hands in the air.”

Tommy furrowed his brows while the security guard swung around that weird metal stick. “Now see here- I have an APPOINTMENT. I don’t need you feeling me up while I be late-“

“Aha!” A voice interrupted. “My blobby British blond man! I thought you would’ve shown up on the *east* entrance. Oh well.” A man in green walked up to the security guard casually. Tommy stared at him for a moment before registering him as the guy who set this all up in the first place. Charlie-something.

“Sir. This man might be carried unauthorized weaponry-“

“Unauthorized? By who?” Charlie asked curiously.

“Pardon?” The officer asked confusingly.

“Well if nobody unauthorized it, then surely it must be authorized then!” Charlie patted the guy on the back before doing a double take at the slime that stuck to the guys shirt, sheepishly wiping his hands on his pants. The guard stared at him in disbelief. Charlie then grabbed Tommy by the shoulders and guided him past the guard while he was still bamboozled over the whole ‘authorization’ shtick.

“My my how’s it been! We hardly speak! You never reply to my texts! You leave me on voicemail! You haven’t subscribed to my YouTube channel! This is not very cash money of you Tommyinnit!” Charlie exclaimed as he ushered Tommy left and right so quickly he felt a little sick. He did skip breakfast after all. Which is a crime. He was going to stop for some honestly, but the bus caught traffic and- 

Where was he? Oh.

“Dude, you’ve never texted me ever in your life.” Tommy shot back.

Charlie squinted his eyes behind his glasses. “Did I just imagine doing all that then? Huh.”

He suddenly jerked Tommy to the right before he could crash into people in suits walking past and Tommy found himself In a glass elevator that showed the entire view of the city. It was one of those Express elevators that stuck out of the building and were safety hazards.

“Woah.” He breathed as he pressed his head against the fogging glass. The morning sun made the taller, brighter building glitter like diamonds and made the shitty, worn down buildings look less like horror film sets. Parks and ponds stood out like sore thumbs and small people walked around casually living their lives. In the distance, some figures in bright colors hopped around the rooftops.

“Wait, hero’s patrol in the daytime?!” Tommy reached for Charlie without looking and pulled him close with an ‘oomf!’. 

“Dude, where have YOU been. This isn’t news. They always come out on TV and parades and events.” Charlie droned, trying to pry the blonds fingers off of his wrist. 

“Is this the world outside of school, work, and Night curses?” Tommy sighed dreamily. “I wish I could be that.”

Charlie hesitatly patted Tommy on the back. “I wish you the best? Listen man I’m working right now so I can’t throw back the energy you’re putting out.” He frowned. “I just left some new dice in my other coat.”

Tommy reached into his pocket and pulled out the dice Charlie had gifted him the first time they met. “You can borrow mine.” 

The other man grinned and slimed up his hand as he took the dice from him.

 The elevator dinged and the doors opened to a neat secretary room whose office would’ve looked totally normal if not for the fact that the chair was empty and green slime covered everything. 

“I would say sorry about the mess but we just got rid of the carpet and that was a fucking nightmare.” Charlie said offhandedly as he walked towards the door at the end of the room. 

“Oh shlatty boy! Stop recording your Christmas special and get out here! It’s American time!”

The door opens slowly.

The lights in the room go dark, and a sudden spotlight hits the doorframe as the camera pans from the floor to the ceiling, giving a full body view of a man in a suit. A golden plaque with the words ‘special guest’ appears in front of him. Clapping and cheering faintly plays In the background as the theme of ‘If The Price Is Right’ starts the play.

Jschlatt waves his hand and the spotlight disappears, the music stops, and the clapping ceases.

“Fuck Charlie I thought you got that fixed!” He grumbles, tossing the ‘special guest’ sign at the window. The glass broke and Tommy looked out from what was probably the 38th floor. The wind blew into the building, making him feel a bit nauseated. He looked away and turned his attention to Jshlatt, who was fixing his tie. In his suit. The same suit as Tommys. Pog.

“Dude! We’re fucking matching!!!” Tommy exclaimed. This was the best thing ever! Schlatt took one look at him and said, “no.”

“No?”

“No.”

Charlie crossed his arms from where he stood menacingly behind Tommy and tapped his foot. “Yes.”

Schlatt sighed and reached his hand into his pocket. “Damn it I hate it when he does that.” He turned and waved them to follow. 

He pulled out a key and made his way into his office, gestering the other two to follow. Tommy looks at Charlie, who gesters in a ‘after you’ wave. Or maybe a ‘ladies first’. Could have been either one.

The inside of Schlatts office was fairly normal. A desk. A chair. A computer. Some filing cabinets. A stop light. A desk fan. A potted plant. A railroad crossing light. Some traffic signs. Speed limit signs littered the walls. 

Wait. “Is this legal?” He voiced aloud his thoughts, looking around at all of the city? Property.

“I- listen man, it’s a long fucking story.” Schlatt said, dragging his hand down his face.

“My personal favorite is the railroad lights! They go off at lunchtime!” Charlie said eagerly.

Schlatt pointed at Tommy aggressively before he could ask more questions.

“First off, let me see the gun.”

Tommy wordlessly passed over the weapon. It was an elegant thing, and it took Tommy a couple of YouTube videos to piece the few parts together like the worlds most deadliest Lego set. Mind you, he got destracted with other videos of cat guns but he got there in the end and that’s the important part.

“This is a 1920s Thompson submachine gun. Also known as the Tommy gun. ” Schlatt said, holding the thing elegantly, and turning it around. He inspected Tommy’s construction job before sighing and disassembling it. “And of course you fuck the things up already.” 

Tommy crossed his arms. “Well excuse me for not knowing how to use some fucking old ass antique gun. Why couldn’t you get me a Glock instead?”

Charlie shook his head and wrapped his arms around Tommy. “It’s because the Tommy gun is iconic! Just imagine. Trenchcoat mobster approaches building, whips out two of these bad boys from the trenchcoat and completely raze the place down. The elegance of it is what makes it a worthy weapon!” He said, waving his free hand around dramatically.

Schlatt sat on his desk chair and layed the newly reassembled gun onto the desk. “Now look kid, I’ll give you a quick rundown of the gun, then we’ll head out for some target practice, got it?”

Tommy furrowed his brow. “But I don’t think there are any shooting ranges this deep into the city.” He turned to Charlie. “Right?”

Schlatt laughed deeply, and sighed heavily. “Ah kid, tell me something. Have you ever heard of organized crime?”

(-o-)

So it turns out not only do you have hero, villains, and vigilantes, there’s been a mafia territorial war going on for the past few years. Go figure. And Tommy thought his life couldn’t get anymore confusing.

“So let me get this straight.” Tommy said, pinching the bridge of his nose as he paced across the room.

“The top 2 suit rental companies are secretly leading factions of a mafia territory.”

“Yes.” Schlatt nodded.

“And your oppostion is the suit company J’umbo suits co’.“ 

“Correct.”

Tommy facepalmed. “It’s just suits.”

Schlatt crossed his arms. “It’s a way of life.”

Charlie watched them like a tennis match the same he’d been doing for the past 10 minutes. “Can we go shoot up some gang members then?” He pleaded.

Schlatt nodded. “We need to get some of that daily gta in, cmon kid, we’ll teach you how to do a drive by shooting with your new gun.”

Tommy was hopelessly dragged out of the office, beginning to regret getting shooting lessons from people associated with villains. It took a turn for the worst honestly. Not because he’s going to murder people, nah he never really had a moral code to begin with. It was more because as much as he likes Schlatt, the other mustache guy really isn’t that bad. Mumbo yumbo or something like that. Both being mobsters really puts into perspective the fashion industries priorities. He should’ve listened to signs. Miraculous ladybug was right all along when it came to fashion industries being evil.

They usher him into an underground parking lot full of black van that have a decal of a tuxedo. Awfully cringe if you ask him but sadly he got kicked out of logo design class a month ago for getting caught secretly hiding little dicks all over the art.

Charlie opened the back of the van and pointed to the seats. “Are you going to need a booster high seat?”

“Ok first of all, stfu, second of all, Kys, THIRD of all your mother-“

Tommy was interrupted from channeling his inner gamer rage by a light shove sending him inside the car.

“This feels like a kidnapping.” Tommy wondered aloud, face planted into the obnoxious soft fabric seat. “Being forced into a van isn’t a new experience but being forced in a van by two grown ass men is.”

Schlatt choked on air from where he sat in the drivers seat while Charlie snickered next to him in the passengers seat. The van lurched forward as they drove out of the underground parking lot and into the streets.

“How old are you kid, cause I thought you weren’t a minor.” Schlatt side eyed him from driving.

“I’m very much a legal age. In fact I’m so legal I have almost peaked a second decade of existence.”

Charlie stared at him. “You’re nineteen.”

“Going on twenty.”

“You’re nineteen.”

“No im Tommy.” Tommy, channeling Philza Minecraft dad joke energy. Sadly, Charlie was not impressed. Tommy, like the gremlin he is, tried again.

“Nah I’m just messing with you, I’m not Tommy I’m hungry.”

Schlatt aggressively swerved the car causing Tommy to nearly fly off the seat into the window. He caught himself and scrambled to look for a seatbelt. Forget how comfortable the seat was, there were no fucking seatbelts. These guys are monsters. YOLO isn’t worth it in a fucking car crash.

“You didn’t eat?!” Schlatt shouted over his shoulder whist trying to get the steering wheel back in control. Charlie held on to a handle bar on the dashboard, knuckles white from gripping on for dear life. 

“Can you please stop driving like you do when drunk.” Charlie complained, but Schlatt ignored him for looking straight at Tommy. Like full on face forward eye contact. He wasn’t even looking at the road. 

“PAY ATTENTION TO THE ROAD-“

“SCHLATT MAN EYES FORWARD-“

Charlie and Tommy shouted at Shlatt while the guy had the audacity to remove a hand from the steering wheel like an INSANE person and point towards Tommy. Cars honked outside as the car swerved out of control.

“You wanna stop anywhere and get food?”

“I NEED YOU TO DRIVE ASSHOLE-“

“But do you want food-“

“YES FINE DRIVE-“

Schlatt turned around and moved the steering wheel to avoid a car crashing into them from where they drifted off into the opposite lane.

“Yeesh kid no need to be rude I’m fucking offering to get you food. Have some respect for your superiors.”

Charlie clutched his heart and took loud breathes while Tommy hung onto the seats for dear life.

“Charlie… next time you drive.”

Schlatt scoffed but didn’t see Charlie nod viciously at Tommy. Their driver casually ran through a stop sign and braked very hard in the middle of the road.

“So what do you want to eat?” He asked, uncaring of the fact they nearly drove into the sidewalk.

Tommy narrowed his eyes in thought. What had he been craving for a while?

“I need to obliterate a mango.”

“Erm.” Charlie commented. “What?”

Tommy elaborated. “I must consume it, devour its flesh. Destroy its bloodline.”

Schlatt sighed and nodded. “We’re getting McPuffy’s then.”

Tommy cleared his throat. “We have Mcpuffys at home.”

Charlie sent him a look. “Mc puffys at home:”

The car was silence for a stretch. Then,

“I get the feeling your quoting something at me-“

“Yeah we were-“

“YOU UNCULTURED SWINE-“

Schlatt ran a red light, made a left turn in the middle of the lanes, and then busted a U turn into the McPuffy’s drive thru.

“Noted.” He said, turning back to see Tommy gripping the roof of the car like a cat scared out of its wits. He’s never going to climb into a van ever again.

Schlatt rolled down his windows with the handcrank, (what the fuck why does the car window open with a hand crack?) and a voice came from the speakers.

“Hi welcome to Mcpuffys what can I get you?”

Schlatt opened his mouth but Charlie pulled the man’s arm and hissed “aren’t you going to use the fucking app and collect points?”

Schlatt sent him a stare. “I can fucking rob this place at gunpoint. Why do I want to use an app.”

Charlie shrugged, “Thought we were playing capitalism but fine be that way. I’ll take a vanilla milkshake and fries.”

Schlatt rolled his eyes. “Fucking weirdo.” He turned to Tommy. “You’re getting breakfast.”

“What.”

“Ok one breakfast McMuffin it is.”

He stuck his head out and cleared his throat. “Do you speak Spanish?”

The little speaker crackled and a voice replied. “Uh- ¿Como puedo ayudarte?”

“Cool. I’ll take a McMuffin, a vanilla milkshake, large fries, and a black coffee.”

“Bruh.” A few seconds past. “Pull up to the next window.”

Schlatt snickered as he drove around the building while Charlie shook his head. 

“You’re such an asshole.” He snickered, clearly not caring about the fact that said man was driving up the sidewalk. Tommy groaned from the back seat.

“Do you even have a licsene dude.”

“Somewhere.”

“I’m going to yell that I’m being kidnapped.”

“Mmmm you do that.”

The drive through window opened up and a man with a black and white split mask appeared. 

“That’s be 2- oh shit Tommy is that you?”

The guy peeked through the car window to where Tommy poked his head between the passenger and driver seat.

“Hello Mcpuffys worker that seems to know my name.” Tommy greeted nicely raking through his very large brain to try and figure out who the fuck this person was.

“Wha-“ the worker sputtered. “Tommy the hell? It’s me Ranboo!”

Shlatt looked unamused, head moving back and forth between the guy and Tommy, who had his eyes squinted and staring lasers at the worker.

“Mmm yeah no I don’t see it.”

The Mcpuffys worker rolled his eyes, and muttering under his breath, took off the Mcpuffys hat.

Holy shit it’s Ranboo.

“Holy shit Ranboo! What kind of fucking sorcery was that?!” Tommy leaned away from the window, squishing Charlie with the goopy man yelling ‘hey!’.

Ranboo looked confused. “It’s just a hat?” He put the hat back on and with a blink of an eye, a stranger stared back at Tommy. 

“EWWWW. URGGGGGHHH. BLEEEHHH.” Tommy gagged, looking away. “It’s a whole different fucking person standing there.”

Charlie peeked over Tommy’s gangly body. “It’s the same guy?” He stared at Tommy oddly. “Is Mcpuffys uniform your greatest weakness?”

Tommy gagged in the back of the van dramatically while Schlatt passed over his credit card in exchange for a bag of hot food, a coffee and a shake.

Schlatt looked over to Tommy gagging and rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a pussy kid. Wait til we got you on 6 freedom units of alcohol.” He turned to Ranboo and he handed his credit card back. 

“Do you happen to have any 1970s vodka in there to mix with my coffee?”

Ranboo stared back at him.

“Sir this is a drive thru-“

A banana cream pie flew past the car from out of nowhere, perfectly sailing through the drive thru window and smashed straight into Ranboo’s face with a satisfying smack. The poor fella flew backwards leaving an afterimage of his feet in the air.

 Tommy peeked from around Schlatt and shook his head solemnly. “Gotta watch out, making references this early in the mornings is dangerous you know.”

Schlatt scoffed. “Kids these days not carrying vodka, what has this country gone to.”

He drove out of the line with Charlie wheezing out, “I’m here for a good time, not a long time but shit guys you both are awful-“

(-o-)

Tommy, with his stomache satisfied and feet bouncing around as the van jumped, cheerful asked, “where we going anyways?”

“Laundromat.” Charlie informed him, while scrolling down Instagram on his phone.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Imagine not owning a laundry machine. Couldn’t be me.”

Schlatt pointed his middle finger at the window of a passing car while driving through an intersection.

“It’s actually a front for a business that could potentially go against the Nevada co.”

Tommy nodded. “Mmm I’ll pretend I know what that is.”

Charlie pulled up a picture of the fucking Tinder bitch. “Remember big Q? Center of attention? Falling with style? Luckiest motherfucker alive? Yeah he owns the company.”

“Actually fuck that guy.” Tommy twisted his mouth. “He made me babysit a date.”

Charlie sent him a wide eye look. “You too?!”

Tommy and Charlie sent each other a look only diehard humor fans could understand when threatened by cringe things like PLOT and LORE. They both shudder in unison.

Shlatt sneezed. “I feel left out, but I do appreciate the ol’ bashing of Quackity.” He pulled into an alley and pointed to one of the back doors. 

“Onto business. According to some insider info It’s closed today. Something about moving sand into another store.” He explained while Charlie got down the car and opened the back of the van. Tommy hopped out happily, glad to be free from that metal junk of death.

Charlie tossed the black case which held the holy gun which Tommy will now mentally call Clementine. 

Cough.

Not referencing anything at all. It’s not like he can’t think of a better name. Totally.

 e-hem.

Tommy carried his sacred item towards Shlatt and Charlie who grouped themselves by the doorway carrying similar cases.

“Alright kid, first lesson.” Shlatt patted Tommy aggressively on the shoulder before handing him a small metal tool. “Lock picking. The subtle art of breaking in.”

Charlie nodded. “A useful tool of trade.”

Tommy stared at the tool in his hand. “Can’t we just blow up the door?” 

Shlatt pushed him next to the door with a not so friendly shove. “Only people who master lock picking can learn to use bombs. We got a whole lesson plan you fuck. Stop jumping ahead.”

“Mmmmm-” Tommy hummed, kneeling down to eye level of the door. He held the tool to the lock and look expectantly at Schlatt. 

“So how do I do this?”

(A/N: I already know how to lock pick so I will say don’t try this at home with a hairpin/paper clip. Contrary to media it will not work very well and can ruin your lock. I’d rather you buy the kit :V) 

“Well the lock has pins with different heights to them inside a chamber. The chamber cannot rotate when the pins are holding it in place,” Charlie explained, pulling out a whiteboard from out of nowhere and drawing a diagram. “You use the pointy curved part of the tool to push the pins up carefully to clear the chamber, so it can turn and open the lock.”

Tommy watched Charlie draw the mechanism with fascination at how good the guy was drawing. And also the diagram of course.

“On that note, take your time,” Shlatt added, “The pins are finicky and it’ll take a bit for first timers to find them. Just imagine the inside of it in your mind.”

Charlie put the whiteboard behind his back and it mysteriously disappeared. He shrugged. “Every lock has different length of pins and the keys ridges are designed to push them up. The tool you stick in there has to manually push them up so it takes a bit of skill to-“

“Got it.” 

The lock clicked open as Tommy pulled out the tool. Schlatt and Charlie’s jaw dropped. Tommy smirked and flipped the tool around in his hand. “Wasn’t that hard guys. You just wiggle it.”

Shlatts eye twitched. “There’s supposed to be an art to it-“

Tommy rolled his eyes, stood up and grabbed Clementine. “Nah. You just jam it in there and it works.”

“That’s not how-“

Tommy opened the door and strolled in without a care in the world.

“Gya-“ Charlie grabbed his case, and followed after him. The place was a laundromat, nothing new. They entered from a room with clothes and sheets hanging all around. Charlie held up a finger to Tommy and creeped around a sheet. He pointed to the corner of the room, where a camera pointed towards the room.

Charlie winked. “Watch this.” Tommy watched curiously as He rolled out dice pulled out from a pocket. They hit a well rounded 17. 

“What’s that gonna do-“ Tommy started, but Charlie pulled out a pocket watch. 

“Give it a minute.”

(-o-)

Meanwhile somewhere in the power grid, a group of squirrels in small ties and hard hats zoomed down the power lines, off to their morning jobs of electricians and building inspectors. They were not happy squirrels, as the price of almonds had just gone up again, and the wages of their company were not particularly good. One particular squirrel was angry due to an argument he had with his new father in law, mainly because he married a mountain gray squirrel who’s family hated him for being a city dweller. He had a terrible morning and was pent up with frustration.

As the group passed the major fuse boxes, one of his coworkers offhandedly mentioned his wife, sending him raging. The squirrel angrily bit off a fuse box connection, cause all the squirrels to jump at the incoming sparks. They sighed, knowing the power had gone out somewhere and they’d probably would have to fix that later.

They all wisely avoided the topic for the rest of the day.

(-o-)

By the time Schlatt entered the room, all the power in the block shut down, causing the security cameras to go dark.

“What the duck did you say you do again Charlie?” Tommy asked intrigued.

Charlie shrugged. “I dapper in a bit of everything. Assistant, hitman, Jedi, god you know. The usual.”

Tommy stared as the guy wiped off some goo from the wall with a towel he had grabbed from the nearest rack. Huh. He’s starting to like this guy more and more, despite the threat to his protagonist title.

Charlie opened the door into the main room with the washing machines and festered Tommy to come over.

“Next lesson Tom-Tom club.” He cheerfully said while Tommy looked at him horrified. 

“Never call me that.”

“Okay Toom.”

“Shut up Choom.”

Charlie snorted. “That works.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulders and bounced on his heels. “Here’s your target practice. Even if you miss, it’ll still hit something and that’s what we want.”

Shlatt popped over from where he was breaking into the vending machines and  added, “don’t break the front door glass. It’ll make a mess and then people will get curious.” 

He took a moment from trying to open the vending machine with his crowbar, (where’d that come from?) and pulled out a gun so fast Tommy thought he blinked. With a loud bang, the glad to the vending machine shattered and Shlatt grabbed a Dr. Pepper like a fucking weirdo. 

“It pissed me off.” Shlatt said to their faces, said faces looking at him in both  unamusement and chaotic gremlin smiles respectfully.

Tommy pulled out Clementine and joyfully lifted it up, but was held back back Charlie. 

“Wait. Rule one of gun. Do not point at anything you don’t want to destroy.” Charlie warned with a serious tone to his voice. Tommy nodded, because the weight of the gun felt very powerful, and only an idiot would treat it like a toy.

Clementine demanded respect, and only worthy things can be in line of her barrel.

Washing machines shattered and dented left and right as Tommy’s hand vibrated alongside the gun, with Charlie bracing him. 

“Seni-automatic, just hold down the trigger!” Charlie yelled over the loud gunshots. Tommy winced when he felt a cold sensation of GOO penetrate his ears. It felt awful, but it muted the loud sound and allowed him to hear Charlie speak so he would allow it.

 For now.

“Let’s not blow out your eardrums yet hmmmm?” Charlie said while keeping Tommy from accidentally angling the gun at Schlatt, who was pulling out the cash collection boxes from the vending machines and broken washing machines.

“CAN WE LINE UP THE DETERGENT BOTTLES!?” Tommy yelled over the chaos to Charlie, who nodded excitingly. He put Clementine carefully down as they split up in search of shootable items. Tommy narrowed in on the protected shelves and made his way over. His newfound lock picking skills were put to the test when raiding the cabinets and he was rewarded with bottles and bottles of detergent. He inwardly cheered, and swiped as many as he could carry. He made eye contact with Charlie, who seemed to have found all the laundry baskets.

They broke into matching shit-eating grins and carried the same thought.

Let’s make a cool fort.

Within minutes, baskets and sheets were stacked atop each other to form walls and towers. Who knew Charlie’s slime made good glue. Detergent bottles surrounded the masterpiece, covering every inch, with the king of detergents on top of the highest towers.

Charlie and Tommy threw up a high five, with Tommy barely noticing the slime covering his hand.

“I’m totally taking a selfie with this.” Tommy said, doing exactly that with Slimecicle sticking his head in. He made sure the shot up walls weren’t in view because they weren’t a very asthetic backround. 

They were rudely interrupted from their fun when Schlatt yelled out, “stop playing around! This is serious!”

The guy turned from where he was spraying curse words and profanity on the walls and pointed to the other (very much still intact) side of the room. 

“Enough goofing around and wreck the entire place!”

Charlie and Tommy shrugged, and happily shot up the place. When Tommy’s tommy gun (heh, funny) stopped shooting and started clicking, Schlatt wordlessly appeared and loaded the gun, Tommy watching along curiously. Machine guns were weird he decided, hands itching both to shoot more and because the vibration of the gun was leaving a nasty after affect on his hands. Kinda like a lawnmower. Ew.

Tommy glanced out of the windows which, quite literally were wall to wall glass, and did a double take.

“Hey can’t people literally see the shit going on in here?” Tommy pondered while kicking a broken washing machine in to watch it puke quarters out like a child who ate too much candy. Or him when his boss offers to buy him barbecue and he gets the biggest plate to be an asshole. 

Hey Free food is the best type of food.

“I’m pretty sure the windows are tinted.” Charlie called from where he was using schlatt’s crowbar like a baseball except the baseballs were bottles of detergent exploding when they hit the walls.

“Pretty sure?”

“40%”

Tommy walked backwards to Charlie and elbowed him in the chest. 

“Ow what was- uh.”

Tommy pointed at the window, where someone stared straight into their souls from the concrete sidewalk.

This person was also the hero Warden.

Tommy and Charlie sheepishly waved hi at the man.

Chapter Text

The trio that benches together, bleed together.

It was a Monday. 1 am exactly. Tommyinnit, big man extraordinare, lay on his bed face up listening to Radiohead and rethinking his life choices. As one does when listening to Radiohead on a Monday morning at 1 am.

And then someone climbed through his window.

Tommy closed his eyes and sighed. If someone was going to rob him, let them take his life. He was in the middle of reevaluating his choices, and if the world decided this was the end, so be it.

The music did not drown his troubles but was in fact inconvienient enough to fade out as the songs switched, allowing him to hear the loud noises of his soon-to-be robbers tripping over his shit. 

(He’s a bit of a pack rat, it’s not his fault he owns a lot of stuff. It’s cool shit. His Sahara™  same-day shipping has been overused on multiple occasions.)

But he digresses.

“Ack! The fuck?! Boss man this has got to be a fire hazard.”

He opened his eyes to stare at Tubbo, in a black hoodie, who half-carried Ranboo in a matching hoodie. 

Said black hoodies had  bright white bold text that states, “TOTALLY NOT SUSPICIOUS.”

Tommy looked at Tubbo in the eye as the song ‘Who can it be now’ started playing. (Stupid Spotify shuffle). His eyes drifted down at Ranboo, slouched over and head face down to the floor. He looked back at Tubbo, who’s face was pale and breathing heavily.

The dots have been connected.

“Did you guys go drinking without me?!”

(The dots were not in fact connected.)

Tubbo glanced away and pushed hair out of his face.

“Uhh yeah sure boss man but uhhh can we use your restroom real quick?”

Tommy sighed. “Tubbo man, mi casa is your casa. You literally have a room here, I don’t know why you're asking permission.” Weird how he didn’t use the front door, but then again, those stairs suck . He would also climb the windows if he had the option.

“Right right, on a totally unrelated note, where do you keep your bandages?” Tubbo asked, almost hysterically.

Tommy took his headphones off fully because he suspected it was probably ‘Men at Work’ making him interpret the tone of the conversation wrong.

“Bottom cabinet, to the very right.” He said as he finally turned on his lamp to get a better look at the very much unconscious Ranboo from the poor lighting, where said lanky man was sporting a very very dark stain going down already black pants.

He reevaluated the situation.

Damn, what where they drinking that managed to stain black clothes ?! (And where could he get some-)

Tommy got up from the bed to open the bedroom door for Tubbo because he was a gentleman of the ladies and because Tubbo probably couldn’t open it while heaving Ranboo around. Bro was all bones, just many many bones that poke.

“Hey-” Tommy called out while Tubbo made his way down the hall. Tubbo froze. “If you throw those pants in my washer, I think I can get the stain out, I don’t know about the smell of alcohol though.”

Tubbo attempted to wave him away with his free hand while juggling Ranboo’s weight around. “No- no I’m- we’re good, there’s a rip in these anyways we were going to throw them out later.”

Tommy nodded.

“Cool, cool, cool. Do you need me to get the air mattress out in the second room?”

But Tubbo already closed the bathroom door and quite rudely, ignored Tommy, a crime in multiple countries.

Or maybe the guy was just hungover.

Yeah. That made sense. What else could be wrong with them? A knife fight?

Yeah right.

Silly Tommy.

Tommy stood in the low lighting staring at the trail of mystery liquid leading through the bathroom door.

Wait.

Pause.

Freeze frame.

Record scratch.

Rewind sound effect.

Where’d he put the air mattress away?

You need to leave- Seriously, who invited this kid?

Tommy stared at the English essay on his computer on his bed. It was due at 11:59 so, like a normal college student, he started it around 10 o clock.

He’s having a great time.

The living room was stunting his creative juices, and he needed a different place to work on it, hence; the bedroom.

Laying down and typing frantically will either mess up his spine or get him an A+. There is no in-between.

He took another swig of coke, the only caffeinated drink he could stand, and got back to scrolling through the Cliff Notes to find a quote long enough to look like he did research on proving his thesis.

(AI was for pussys and lonely people. Tommy was neither.)

A tap on the window broke him out of his thoughts. Mmm, it could’ve been a bird. He returned back to his thoughts.

The tapping grew into banging. He rolled his eyes. Sheesh, give a man a warning before you try and break his glass.

Tommy looked out to see, in all his purple hoodie glory, Purpled.

Purpled took the eye contact as a green light for climbing through the window. Tommy watched in horror as he realized the blond boy dripped blood all over the floor.

“What the fuck.”

Purpled straightened up and closed the window. He looked around Tommy’s room in mild interest, as if he wasn’t making a mess of Tommy’s hardwood.

“Why are you here.” Tommy stressed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Purpled had the audacity to look awkward. “Uhh- flour? Flour. Yes, I am out of flour .”

“Why do you need flour.”

“To bake errrr Threat Bread?” Purpled questioned, as if Tommy knows what the fuck goes on in his aliens mind.

“That’s not a thing.”

Purpled crossed his arms in a defensive pose. “The bad boys' bread bakery says otherwise.”

Tommy paused. Yeah, that was fair. It was a good bakery, if not for the weird names on the menu like ‘ Bunch of Silly Lad Boys’ Carrot Bread ’ or ‘ Kinda Sad Boys’ Croissants ’. It's a real mouthful to order. Absolute banger bread, though.

Why is he thinking about bread?

Tommy realized he zoned out and was staring at Purpled really hard the entire time. Purpled, who thought it was a challenge, was staring at him back equally as hard, trying not to blink. A minute past. By the time Tommy was conscious of what he started, Purpled looked away and scowled, crossing his arms. So Tommy won the staring contest then.

“Ok, Fine that was a lie.”

He knew it!

Totally called it.

Purpled cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head. “I don’t need flour, I just want to use your shower, but it would’ve been rude to just come in and ask that.”

Tommy stared at the large puddle of blood on the floor growing under Purpled.

“You dripping blood all over the floor is rude enough, I think.” He pointed out.

Purpled walked out of the room, calling, “I’m going to use all your hot water and steal your soap.”

Jokes on him, Tommy’s been using Dr. Pepper scented soap to shit in the haters.

…Now, back to his essay.

N̴̮̱̬̪̖̥̜̼̭̥̐̉̎͐͐̽̃͋̎͂̏͘ͅÕ̵̦̞͙͔̘̜̣̼̗̝̆̽̓͐ͅT̵͈̠̬̄̑͊̄̓͂̈H̷̳̭̆̓̉Į̵̛̲̬̣̜̱͍̫̻͓̺͇͈̈́͌̄̀̔͂͌̒̉͝ͅͅǸ̸̮̟͐́̑̓̾̊̈́̚͝G̶̪̠͍̒̽̔͒ ̴̨̡̭̝͎͕̎͛̍̈̅̂̂̆̑͒̈́̓͌̒͜͠ͅI̴̛͎̺̞̗͓̥͎͚͍̰̥̳̤̍̏́̇̑̒͜N̵̳̩̈̈́̚̚ ̵̢̨͕̰̠̱̳̻̘̬̦̺̳͜͝ͅĻ̶̨͙̳͈̙̗̟̮̥̬̙̲̞̫̀̌̌̀̅Ị̸͈͍̼̘̠̻͎̠̱̾̀̄̿̄͒̔̄̀͝͝F̶͕͓̩̭̹̃̈́͊̚Ê̴̢̡̜͔̹̺̪̩̱͍̟̪͙͕̿̂͐͒͒͒̂͂͝͝ ̶̨̧̙̼͓̝̯̦̗̺̟͍̬̼̟̇͌̉̇̐̀̑͗̈́̂͠M̷̧̤͇̝̥̲͗̓̽́̒͊̇̓́̈͒ͅĄ̷͚͚̦̤̳̬̫̳̺̤̲̳̞̔̐̿́̀̈̅̐́͐̕͘͜T̵͚̣͎̱̙̲̳̗̯̒̈́̽̓̄̈́̀̈́̄͂̓̄͆̑̕T̴̻̣̤̞͔̳̥̈́̋͜Ē̵͕̫͔̜̝̙̹̮̭̜̳̆̂̿̃͊̽̾̚͘̕͝R̵̛̛̯̪̂̽̈́̂̓́́͠Ş̵̦̻̟̤̜͈͙̌̃͒̓͛̾͘-̵̧̱̠̝̃̈̾̎̎̇̈́͊̍͋͛̂͘ OH LOOK A BIRD! :D

The bed was too squishy. The couch wasn’t the correct consistency. The floor on the other hand…

Tommy splattered on the floor in a position that would make criminal investigation chalk outlines proud. He didn’t even know he could put his legs like that but hey it was comfy. His neck was at the perfect angle to watch television, which was exactly what he was doing. 

On the floor, watching tv.

…It was a slow night okay, he had no homework, and he finished studying. Binge-watching TV was the best way to go. Sleep? Who’s she? New season dropped and damn it if he was going to watch it if it was the last thing he did.

With his loud TV speakers, he almost didn’t hear the knocking on his skylight window. 

But he did. So he turned to look at the roof. The weird angle made him wanna laugh because woah, that’s a crazy way to look at his roof.

No wait focus, something’s up there.

A jingle of metal twisting in metal made Tommy realize that someone’s unlocking the entrance.

So that means either he has a robber (likely), or someone he gave the key to is entering this late at night (also likely.)

“Jeez mate are you good down there?” A voice called out who Tommyinnit, man of many friends, happily recognized.

“Oh Philza Minecraft, life has become meaningless and the entertainment of bread and circus holds no pleasure.” Tommy recited with an air of hopelessness. “Only you bring the light of feeling in this grey world.”

Philza, who climbed down the stairs carrying bags of something, rolled his eyes and chuckled. 

“You’re a little shit you know that?” He put down the bags on Tommy’s only table, walked up to Tommy and realized the unholy position he was in. “That cannot be comfortable mate.” 

Tommy looked up at him, the man being upside down in his vision. “Not if you don’t have bones. Phil- Phil, I am a person with many, many bones. Please don’t take away my bones.”

Philza put a hand on Tommy’s forehead, his hands being oddly cold. Must be because the long as shit fingers get no blood circulation in them. “Mmmm, you don’t have a fever, Tommy are you high?”

Tommy sighed. “I wish.”

Philza sent him The Look. Tommy gestured to all of himself. 

“Phil I’m just like this, you should know this is how i come in the box. It’s my factory reset. Store bought. Non modified. A stock car-“

Philza rolled his eyes fondly. “Yes yes yes I forgot. Now where do you keep your bread?”

Tommy confusingly looked at the man. Did he accidentally skip a few seconds? Did he eat the context? Did a time traveler move a chair?

“What?”

Philza jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I brought you groceries since I was in the area. You should probably help me put them away before the milk goes bad.”

Tommy’s jaw dropped. “Philza Minecraft you are literally the only man ever, can you please adopt me and make me your heir.”

Phil snorted. “I don’t think I can legally do that.”

“Then do it illegally.”

Phil shot him a Legendary Dad Smile™. “Sounds good mate :).”

Yippee.

Chapter Text

Long ago, before the beginning of the universe, also known as the one-shot, there lived a guy who could not sleep.

He’s just some guy.

Tommy reached the point of hallucinating new patterns into the sound of the alarm clock. It was quite funny, actually. Usuall,y it goes a sort of “ waAæ waAæ !” And now it sounds like “ äæhhw äæhhw !” 

Lying in bed, Tommyinnit, civilian extraordinaire, buried his face into his pillow and swore.

And then his phone alarms started going off.

“USDKFKS— fine! Alright, I’m getting up!” He croaked, reaching as far as he could from where he lay, trying to turn off the first alarm. He could not reach it-which was a given but fuck does moving sucks- and now meant taking drastic measures. He had to exit the cocoon of blankets and pillows. Fuck.

Should he be getting up? If the second alarm starts ringing, he knows he has 20 minutes left to leave if he doesn’t want to be late. It’s all down to the math in his head. Besides, he barely fell asleep at 4:40 last night because of some fight between that screaming guy and the explosion guy. Loud mother fuckers. He needs every drop of sleep.

Why did his dumb ass have to get morning classes for college. ‘ It’s a flexible schedule ’, they said. ‘ You’ll have more freedom and discipline ’ they said. Tommy is never going to listen to Reddit ever again. Or was that the school counselor? It could’ve been either one, thinking back.

Tommy fell off the bed, dragging the sheets with him. 

How the fuck did he end up on the floor? He might still be asleep because it might as well have been teleportation.

His phone changed alarm sounds when another alarm interrupted the first one, playing the song ‘Caramelldansen.’ Tommy scrambled up violently, escaping the claws of the blankets to shut off the alarm. 

…Listen, it was funny the first 5 times, but after the 37th time of hearing it to wake up, it was starting to get annoying.

He stood swaying in the middle of the room with his eyes closed, finally enjoying the sounds of silence and rain— wait, rain?

Tommy swore mentally before pulling up the weather forecast on his phone. The lil bitch happily reported that it was going to rain all day, despite it saying cloudy yesterday.

This changes things a bit. And NOT for the better.

Tommy walked over to the main room with his best sleep zombie impression, zoning in on the stairs to the roof in particular.

They were dripping water.

Well fuck. There’s no time. 

Tommy, feeling wide awake with the adrenaline of having deadlines potentially fucking up, scrambled into his storage closet to grab his emergency towels. The first time the roof leaked he had an extra pair of hands since Tubbo was over, but they both panicked and used up an expensive amount of paper towels. After the third time, Tommy invested in old extra absorbing towels. A shit ton of them.

Tommy threw them all over the puddles, plopping them over the hardwood floor in hopes they would soak it up before he got hit with the water damage.

Most of the stuff within the Splash Zone™ was moveable, and Tommy pushed everything carelessly away, making a right mess of his room.

But no time to dilly-dally, as Philza Minecraft would say.

…no, wait, this is pre-canon; Philza should not be in the script. Fuck.

Tommy dumped the rest of the towels onto the staircase in favor of running to the kitchen to get the big bowls. Nearly clipping his hip on the corner of a table, he lunged to grab them, pausing to glance at the microwave clock. The bright white light made his vision blurry.

Fuck. Time is not something he has anymore.

With one hand, he grabbed an apple and granola bar, the ‘emergency food’ whilst bringing the bowls right under the most prominent leaking problems.

Ok. Two problems done.

He reached under his couch where he last left his boots before hopping over to his room while putting on said shoes. Multitasking at its finest, his balancing act is better than Dick fucking Grayson.

(Wait?…who the fuck is-)

He looked around angrily for his trench coat. He swore he put it in the closet. Tommy stumbled past the mirror when he finally got the second shoe on, paused, and turned back.

A blonde head peeked back at him, wearing bright yellow flannel pants and a blue shirt with an image of a goose wielding a bat. It wasn't the *worst* outfit he’d gone to school in, but it wasn’t the best.

Eh, no one’s gonna see it under the trench coat. 

…under…

HE PUT THE COAT IN A BOX UNDER THE BED.

With a dive worthy of American baseball, he dove to his knees by the bed and opened a box to the heavenly sight of his dumb trench coat. The freaking tan colored trenchcoat that makes him look like a British Inspector Gadget. Ranboo thought he was being funny on Tommy’s birthday but jokes on him he’s into that shit.

But glancing at it now, he could practically hear the angelic choir sing.

No, that was just his 3rd alarm. Shit shit shit.

He grabbed the coat, grabbed his backpack, and dumped his breakfast inside. Tommy juggle,d putting on his trench coat whilst also sticking things into his backpack.

Hair brush, toothbrush, something else that wasn’t a brush. The essentials to someone who was fucking late. 

He scanned the room one last time, making sure the place wouldn’t blow up without him. His eyes caught his umbrella still hanging on the wall innocently.

Yeah, he was probably going to need that.

Swiping his umbrella (and his headphones, he grabbed instinctively on the way out), he locked his apartment up and slid his way down the stairs. Yea,h you heard that right. Slid.

The stairs were wet (shitty roofing- man what the hell does his landlord do?), and he was not about to crack his head open by climbing down them quickly. So, he took the more efficient route of sliding down the rails. 

Hey— between cracking his head climbing or sliding down, one of them is clearly faster.

He could feel the water from the rails slide against the coat, giving less friction and more speed as he barreled down the flight of stairs.

Perks of living in a worn-down apartment in the middle of nowhere. No one (human) living on any floors to scold him for shit. Everything the light touches is his.

With one hand on his umbrella and the other free, he put in his headphones. Since he’s a cultured college boy as well as someone who’s fucking late, he of course started playing Eurobeat. Gotta go fast or something like that.

He reached the lobby of the building, where the rain decided that it did not want him to go outside, so it started pissing harder. Like a lil bitch. He’s going to sue someone. Starting with the CEO of SpaceCash. It’s a good plan.

With a swipe of his umbrella and a deep breath, he made the trek outside, phis ants immediately becoming wet at the hem. Ugh. They were his comfy ones too. Laundry day is going to have to come sooner. 

He walked as fast as he could to the bus stop in need of shelter from the rain. He checked the time. 

Oh fuck. The bus had already left.

Plan B. 

Tommy doubled back, running around his apartment and into the back alley where he had left the Scooter™.

One of those city renting electric scooters that lie around sometimes in the main area, he and Tubbo thought it would be funny to borrow one permanently and- er modify it.

It could get him to class in time, no problem, as long as it didn’t kill him in the process.

Hell take his chances.

He closed the umbrella sadly, feeling his hair become drenched in water. No helping that. He’ll dry off in the bathroom later. Tommy hopped on the scooter, cranked it up to ‘ oh shit I need SPEED ’ mode, and flew down the alleyway.

The sidewalks were luckily empty because no sane person would be walking around in this downpour. Luckily, Tommy was neither sane nor a person, so he sliced through puddles at neck-breaking speeds, crossing his fingers that he didn’t turn too hard.

The modified tires saved his life on multiple occasions, keeping him from losing control on the slippery concrete.

He took shortcuts through back alleys, through parking lots, some guy's backyard, and in the mall at some point (people did glare at him at that, but he was too soggy to care at that point), and before he knew it, he was at his college campus.

Tommy ignored the bike racks on the side of the building, he was sure the professor would understand. He zoomed straight through the building, flying down the halls without bothering to slow down. The class numbers merged into a blur until he aggressively turned, with an exaggerated ‘screeeeee!’ Ringing from the tile floors. He quickly leaned the scooter against the wall and turned on ‘theft mode. (It electrocutes anyone who touches it. Skill issue, honestly).

Tommy yanked the door open.

He threw himself into the room, gasping for air, and water dripped down his everything. 

All eyes are on him.

RINGGGGG!

“So nice of you to join us, Mr. Innit. Please have a seat.”

He’s so going to sleep through this class.

<•>

Hand dryers made excellent drying stations. The hot air blew his hair all over the place, with the water droplets uncomfortably rolling down his neck. He could hypothetically go to the gym showers and borrow the clothes dryers there and-

Mmm, wait, that actually is a better idea. But here he is, sitting under the bathroom hand dryer while eating his apple. No one gives him a second glance, they pass by him like ‘yup. Same shit as always’.

He really should go dry his clothes, tho. His wet collar felt gross.

Chapter Text

Joel: welcome to the bad boys bread bakery! we used to be located down by the bridge but it was burnt down :(

Tommy: I don’t want to hear your backstory man.

Joel: bad boys 4 ever

Tommy: the ladies are so over bad boys, it’s all about good boys now haven’t you heard

Joel: listen kid I’m married and have a successful business. Your a broke single college student. We are not the same

Tommy: -1000 damage. TKO wasted.

Chapter Text

“It’s lore time, fellas.” Tommy spread out the big roll of paper across the IKEA bench on his rooftop, with the three most dangerous villains in the city beside him.

Because it was your average Saturday night. At least it wasn’t Tuesday, Tuesdays fucking suck. He's got personal beef against Tuesdays, and the next time it comes around, he and it are going to have words.

Wait, what was happening again? Oh, right.

Philza cocked his head to the side to try in an attempt to understand Tommy's horrible chicken scratch. Tommy can’t read it either, but shhhh, they don't have to know that.

“Mate, I don’t understand. I thought you said we were going to get pancakes?”

“Yeah sure ‘cause an old man like you would love to eat that old people shit at such an ungodly hour,” said Siren, crossing his arms and huffing his breath. This fool. He doesn’t understand the seriousness of the situation. Tommy rolled his eyes and huffed.

“You insolent fool. Not you, Philza Minecraft, only man ever. Wilmblur. Must I explain everything to your microscopic, pathetic mind?”

Wilbur made a noise of offense, but The Blade snorted. “He has a point.” But then he mumbled, “Mind you, his explanation took about 20 minutes longer than it should’ve and involved one too many red lines than I’m comfortable with, but other than that I got the message.”

Tommy looked down at the paper. It looked like some conspiracy paper the Racoons always have hanging on their walls, complete with big red circles surrounding pictures and thumbtacks holding up pictures of cool birds he saw during his walk to the park. No relevance to the plot, they were just cool, and he wanted to fill up space.

“Hey, don’t diss the system. It works.” Tommy huffed. Oh hey, he realized, we haven’t seen Techno for a couple of chapters. Poor guy, getting sidelined despite all the anime protagonist energy.

“I literally see you at the coffee shop every day, what are you talking about?”

Tommy ignored him, rolled up the paper, and threw it down his window hatch before closing it behind him. Ignore questions you can’t answer. That’s his new motto, second to YOLO.

“Alright fellas, move out!” Tommy dusted his pants off and marched off to the fire escape. (Though it's more like a fire hazard, since his apartment building is shit.)

The three villains looked at each other, shrugged, and followed him down the building. Siren tapped Tommy on the shoulder and started being a whiny bitch. Nothing new here.

“Can you just explain it more simply? Please? Not for me, for Crow, he’s kinda slow cause he’s so old-“

“Mate. You’re really pushing it.”

Tommy coughed. “We’re going to IHOP.”

Wilbur tripped, grabbed onto the wrong rail, and nearly fell 5 flights of stairs as it bent under his weight. He caught his balance again, pausing to look at it in horror before going back to pestering Tommy.

“But whyyyyy.”

Tommy said in the flattest tone he could muster, “I need emotional support and someone more confused than me in this situation.”

“Huh.”

“A Foil, if you did your English homework as a kid.”

Techno cleared his throat. “Really don’t appreciate you assuming I didn’t do my homework.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I graduated from college.”

“Fuck.”

Philza sighed, probably tired of his children already. Tommy understands him. He should disown them. And maybe adopt Tommy in the process, but that’s not the point.

Nah, it totally is the point. It has been the real plot all along, all these SBI moments leading up to murdering Phil’s heirs and becoming adopted-

Damn Tommy’s fucking hungry. Too many tangents, not enough pancakes.

“Why do you need emotional support for a trip to a chain restaurant?” Philza inquired, breaking Tommy out of his thoughts (a dangerous place). Finally, someone asking the rational questions.

“Why is an IHOP open at 1 am?” Techno paused his climbing to ask. Fuck now the questions are too rational. Quick! Use evasion!

“Your mother.”

“Heh?”

Philza, the most understandable man the universe has gifted him, came to an odd but correct conclusion. “Ah. I assume it involves issues regarding my wife’s job?”

Tommy threw his arms in the air. “See? Crow gets it! Why can’t Wilbur?”

“Because you keep insisting on being some cryptic horror-“

Tommy waved him off. “It’s funnier without context I assure you. You won’t even die, relax and enjoy the ride.”

Wilbur made eye contact with Techno once before shrugging. “Ah, what the hell, I owe the kid for all the snacks I steal.”

“IS THAT WHERE MY ASSORTED NUTS HAVE BEEN GOING-“

They reach the bottom of the stairs, and Tommy jumps the rest of the way down. Unfortunately for him, he forgot to brace himself and now his feet sting like a bitch. FUUUUUU-

“CCKKKK-“ he groaned, jumping from one foot to another. He felt more than saw the other two hop down from the top while Philza soared gracefully down. Hmmm. Reminder. Invest in wings. If he can get a gift like that from his wife, Tommy’s gonna file a complaint to the Night, demanding worker’s comp.

Phil looked around the empty street. “Where do you keep your car parked?”

Tommy sent him the most criminal side eye he could muster. “Side eye. Bold of you to assume I own a car. We walking bitch-”

Which was clearly the wrong thing to say because Crow pulled up a phone faster than a blink and held it up to his mouth like a walkie-talkie. His old man legs probably couldn’t handle the thought of walking more than two blocks. He would never insult Philza Minecraft HOWEVER-

“Kristin, can we get a car down here please?”

Out of the shadows a sleek black car slowly rose from the ground in front of them, which, what the hell. This is some Solo Leveling type shit that was NOT offered to him when HE was chosen by a deity. This is slander. This is bullshit. This is herasay or however you spell that word. He ain't got time to pull up a thesaurus. He’s going to start a riot in front of SpaceCash.

Tommy’s jaw dropped. “Why do you get a fucking cool wife?! I want one!”

Siren coughed, like the diseased, immature man he is. “The day Tommy gets married is the day the sky will fall.”

Tommy glared at him. “I could have that arranged you fuck. Don’t test me.”

Before Tommy could pull up his several contacts that owe him favors to rub in Wilbur’s face, Techno the fucker pushed him into the backseat of the car.

“Oi-”

Tommy gets interrupted by having two grown ass men squish him in the backseat as both the Blade and Siren join him. Tommy is being crushed. This is abuse. They are beefcakes who will crush his frail skeleton out of existence. He, of course, voices his concern.

“GET THE FUCK OFF ME YOU TWATS I SWEAR- PHIL! ~PHIL, THEY‘RE CRUSHING MEEEEEE-“

Phil, the privileged man that he is, sat in the passenger seat. Tommy paused his yelling when the car started driving.

“Wait. Who the fuck is driving.”

He leaned around Techno– who was the middle seat child, and saw the driver seat full of crows. 4 were on the floor pushing the pedals. One was standing on the steering wheel as the lookout. Two were happily pushing the gear shifter stick (because crows were based and hated electric cars and also automatics). A few sat on the chair, reaching the steering wheel and pulling the car out of the street. And they all wore matching little chauffeur hats. Tommy’s jaw dropped.

“What the fuck.”

Phil just smiled and shrugged like ‘what can you do?’. “They all have their license.”

Tommy tapped his finger on his forehead. “I guess this is why they call you Crow.”

Everyone in the car simultaneously slaps their foreheads in sync.

•———•

Tommy told the crows to go to the most fucked up IHOP in town. It was to be quoted, “You’ll know it when you see it.”

And yeah let it be known that crows are smart as fuck because the car ended up right at their destination, no GPS needed. (At some point, two crows pulled out a paper map three times the size of their little crow bodies from who knows where and started cawing at each other.)

And yeah, ok, the villains were not happy with their silly destination.

“What the fuck is that?!” Siren hissed with his vocal cords getting all funny like a pubescent teen.

Ha. Pubescent.

P u b e.

P o o b- (ok he’ll stop.)

“IHOP,” Tommy said, getting out of the car. Ah, sweet leg room, how he missed you. And then his knees started cracking like glowsticks which ok sure they wanna be glowsticks well too bad, they better not start fucking glowing-

“That is NOT an IHOP, that is a HOLE of WHAT THE FUCK-“

Tommy didn’t think it looked that bad. It was an average IHOP; the bright blue non-euclidean roof, the glitching windows that flickered different light levels from void darkness to flashbang light, the way the air around the place bent around to avoid the god forsaken destination, and the grass looking like a corrupted png because who the fuck uses jpg in this day and age.

Ok, so it was a little bad, but he heard the food would be goo,d so he’s not one to judge a book by its cover.

“So we’re… going in there,” Techno said slowly, inching his way back to the car. The crows took one look at the place and probably went ‘yeah lmao, good fucking luck you’re on your fucking own-’ because the moment Phil got out of the car they took off driving. Tommy assumes they went to a Wendy’s instead. Based crows honestly.

“Yup.”

“Is it safe?”

Tommy shrugged. “See, I have plot armor, but I am legit assuming it’ll be enough to protect you all by default, but no promises.”

The Blade glared at him. “I want to eat food without having to fight for my life.”

Tommy shrugged while Siren waved his arms in emphasis to everything. “What the hell even happened here?! Why is the IHOP like this?!”

Tommy patted his arms on the lanky bitche’s shoulder and calmly looked him in the eyes. “I’m not telling you. But I will queue a flashback..”

“The fu-“

“A Flashback… flashback… flashback…” he said, lowering his voice every time he said it.

•—————•

Tommy was sitting on his IKEA bench on the roof, like a normal person at 11 pm. Totally wasn’t because one of the custom candles he made of a crow melted crookedly and set some napkins on fire, and now the apartment smells like fire-

Totally not the reason. Cough. Cough.

He ate ice cream out of spite (as there was no other way to eat ice cream at 11 pm-) and was angrily destroying a cone when a voice whispered in the sky-

“Hey~”

And Tommy ignored it. Because ice cream.

The sound of traffic came from below him. Some stale air and smog flew by him. He wondered if he would hit anything if he spit over the rails of the building, before thinking against it because ice cream.

“…hey?~”

Tommy ate the last of the ice cream and grabbed the hose to rinse off the sticky ice cream residue on his fingers. Not tonight bitch. Hygiene for the win.

And then his phone rang.

“Hey Siri, answer the phone.” He said without looking to see who it was. It’s 11 pm for fucks sake.

“I’m literally whispering into your ear, stop ignoring me,” came the sound of a not-so-godly voice anymore, Night. Tommy rolled his eyes. They both can be petty but using the phone is a dick move. Who still uses calls? Speaking is overrated. Text him and maybe he’ll get back to you in 2-3 business days.

“Jokes on you bitch, I took a nap during the day.” He taunted because the one thing Night hates is people who sleep during the day.

Needless to say, he held the phone away from his ear while the phone speakers strained from all the yelling on the other side. It went on for another 10 minutes, but Tommy doesn’t think any of what was said would be important for the flashback, so he’s going to skip over it.

Like 20 minutes into the call, Night finally got into what the call was for in the first place.

“So I dropped something when I went to IHOP the other day. Can you get it.~”

Tommy shrugged. “Fuck, guess I’m going to IHOP. What did you drop?”

“…Daylight savings time.” The call hung up, leaving the roof in silence.

Tommy looked into the camera like in The Office.

“End flashback.”

•——————•

“-And that’s why it’s fucked.”

Wilbur stared at him. “Literally nothing happened.”

“Shut up or I’ll cancel you. You’re names already on thin fucking ice.”

“WHAT-“

Tommy dragged him by the wrist like a personal kite and opened the door, like a proper gentleman to the elderly he was, because Siren was simply old as fuck with brittle bones. Yes. Bones. (He’s been obsessed with bones lately, what's up with that huh.)

Siren did a full-body twitch when he stood by the entrance. “I am LEAVING, pancakes are NOT worth my life.”

Tommy groaned. “Why the fuck are you backing out now, we are so close to winning!!”

Siren hissed at him like, honest to god, hissed. It seems there’s some point where a human cannot withstand crack humor fuckery.

Threat time.

Tommy sighed. “Do it or I’ll melt the candles you buy from me.”

Wilbur shook Tommy aggressively. “Don’t you dare touch my 18 statues of Philza Minecraft.”

“YOU MADE MORE?!” Techno said in horror.

“YOU BOUGHT MORE??!” Philza yelled in shock.

Tommy pushed the three grown ass men into the entrance while they were distracted. This is where the fun begins. Gravity left to get the milk because the roof became the wall, and the wall became the floor. All four of them started to slide down to their impending doom.

“PHILLLL!!” They all yelled, but the man was already grabbing them all and flying back up to the door. Well. It was a door. Now it’s just a plain wall. The wall that is now the roof. Ugh, this is getting confusing. Tommy did not appreciate the gravity switch; his mind hurts when it's supposed to be funny.

Techno pulled Tommy's waist uncomfortably while Tommy hugged Wilbur’s leg tighter from where Wilbur held on to Philzas' arm, who was trying to keep everyone in the air. The man soared slowly in a circle around the room, slowly descending from the weight of three people.

Below them, the other side of the room was blurry like someone had turned on a fog machine, or turned the render distance down. It looked more like an eternal void to nothing.

“Phil, I don’t trust Tommy’s ability to hold on Please, can you give me your other hand?” Techno pleaded from below Tommy. He responded by kneeing the man in the stomach. Sadly, it did not knock him off, but only hurt his toes. Darn.

“Give me a second, mate-“ Philza strained with gritted teeth, flapping his wings to keep them afloat. He flew towards the now sideways waiting area that jutted out like a cliffside and stood atop the nearest flat surface, pulling them up.

Tommy feels dizzy because flipped gravity is easy to comprehend, but sideways gravity just hurts. Are they looking up? Are they facing down when they look sideways? Are they standing on the left side of the chair or the front side?

“This is annoying.” He complained.

“Stop complaining. It doesn’t help.” Wilbur snarked back.

And then, just to shit on Wilbur (a valid activity many participate in), the place decided complaining does help, and gravity switched back to normal. The four then found themselves squished on top of each other like an ice cream sandwich. Except no ice cream.

“OW-“

“Oh shi-“

“FUUUC-“

“MY HAIR-“

Tommy kicked Siren’s lanky legs off his feet, scrambling to get away from the pile of Limbs™. Having three full-grown ass men in costume was very awkward to have on top of you. He army-crawled towards the fog, which usually would have been like 4 inches of distance, but space was being warped here, so he ended up across the room without realizing. A few more inches and he passed a doorway he didn’t notice at first, before almost bumping into two pairs of legs that emerged in the fog.

He assumed they were The Blade’s at first, but those were Heelys, which he knew the man did not own, since he preferred Sketcher Light Up Sneaker High-Tops. Also, there were voices above him that were speakin,g which was awkward to say the least.

Uhhhh, wait a second. He strained to hear the voices over the ambient soundtrack of groans, creaking, wind whistling, and the Bossa Nova background music playing from who knows where.

“Can you unplug the fog machine already? I can't see shit.”

“I told you it's broken; it's not turn-off-able. Like your mom last night-”

“Ok, look-”

A conversation above him had Tommy staring at the floor in seething anger. The mystery people were being funnier than him. A crime. He was still lying down unnoticed, which wasn't actually that bad in this situation. The perfect eavesdropping while he waits for back-up. Meanwhile, the voices above him kept at it, attempting to sound like the voices in his head, probably.

“Listen, my friend here ordered his omelette without eggs, and instead of doing your job, you're just complaining at us and insulting my mother.”

The other voice that sounded vaguely familiar replied. “It's an omelet. It's SUPPOSED to be made of eggs.”

Tommy heard a scoff come out of the first person. “Puh-lease, next thing you know you’re gonna tell me that a latte has milk.”

The silence was concerning.

And then a third voice spoke up, almost jumpscaring Tommy out of his hiding spot.

“I don't want any pancakes either. Do you have anything else?”

“-IT'S LITERALLY CALLED INTERNATIONAL. HOUSE. OF. PANCAKES. BITCH DON’T MAKE ME JUMP OVER THIS COUNTER-.”

Oh-kay. Violence. Not his forte. It could be, but he's hungry.

If he crawls backwards again, maybe the people won’t notice him and he can have another adventure with the others in some other cursed place-

A foot came out of nowhere in the fog and stepped on his hand.

“OW-” Tommy complained.

“AHHH I STEPPED ON- ON SOMETHING SOFT-”

Tommy felt something grab his ankle ew what, and in horror felt himself get lifted into the air. Someone picked him up by the ankles- what is this, 2003? (No offense to 2003; it was a good year, despite him not being birthed then.)

“TOMMY?!” Oh no, he's been recognised. Whatever shall he do. (<--sarcasm.) He stared at the shins of everyone because if they weren't going to be eye level with him, he was not going to level eyes with them. But he's got to admit, those cargo pants looked pretty snazzy. He saw some like that at Walmart the other day, and he should've bought them now that he thinks about it. Man, those pants probably came in like 6 colors too.

“Oh hey Tommy, I figured you’d show up in the plot at some point.” Someone said across from him.

Oh no.

He did know that voice.

“Can you put me down?” he said to the mystery person grabbing his ankles, who put him down. How nice. Now, if he can only make up for the fact that he got picked up in the first place by self-defenestration, all would be well. He shook off the headrush and grabbed onto the counter to lift himself. Now that he could see everything that was not the floor, he realized he had made it to the main cash register of the restaurant.

And the person working behind it is none other than that motherfucker, Purpled.

Purpled, in IHOP uniform, saluted him. “Yo.”

Another voice came from behind him. “You know each other?” Tommy turned around to look eyes with another mask. Two masks in fact. Two people stood in full vigilante costume in front of him, one being obnoxiously taller than the other. And there was something familiar about the two. Like he’s seen them on the news or something.

Oh, well, duh, of course. Rooftop. It's probably some of his loudass neighbors.

“Woah, uhh hello there.” Tommy started when the other two stared at him. (he couldn't actually tell if they were looking at him from under the masks, but he liked to feel important enough to be stared at.)

“Oh, er- hello random citizen whomst we have never met before. Are you in peril?” The taller one stammered out. Not very heroic. Is this guy really running around in those sweet Walmart cargo pants and acting like that?

“You don’t sound very confident there. Dude. How do you face yourself in the mirror?” Tommy snarked back. Purpled pointed to the shorter one.

“Hey, this guy knows your name, isn't that suspicious?” The two vigilantes looked back and forth between Tommy and Purpled like a tennis match as Tommy shrugged.

“What can I say? I'm a popular man.”

“You were worshipped in a cult.”

“Same thing.”

The taller one choked on air, which gave Tommy a feeling that tall people just regularly choke on air when around him. Maybe his air is musty. Or murderous. He should invest in an air humidifier to save life, perhaps. The shorter one cleared his throat.

“Excuse us, citizen, we need you to exit the building as it is under investigation due to its-” he waved a hand at the wall as it started flashing different colors. “Everything.”

Purpled rolled his eyes. “I told you, stop meddling. The plot ain't moving faster if you kick us out,” he crossed his arms. “Besides, I'm not leaving till my shifts are over.”

The taller one waved his hands around Purpled's personal space wildly. “Seriously, what part of ‘life in danger’ do you not understand? Your life is not worth the company man. Franchises don't care about their employees, you know. It's all a lie.”

Purpled gasped. “You take that back!-”

Tommy turned to the short guy. “Seriously though, who are you guys?”

Short guy froze. “You don’t know who we are?” he stammered nervously. “Not even a little recognition?”

“Not canonically, which is weird cause we’re on like, what chapter ten?” Tommy mused. “In fact, do you guys even have names?”

“What-”

“If we are sticking to the theme of obvious names, they'd probably be like Ender and Bee or something, but that doesn't feel right to me. It's a bit too on the nose, don'tcha think?”

Short guy seemed in a daze when he went, “So you have heard of us- from the news. I’m Bee. The other idiot is Ender.”

Well goddamnit. Stupid hero names. Stupid vigilante names. Stupid villain names. Why couldn't they just go by colors like the Power Rangers or something? It would make life so much easier. Yellow vigilante. Red villain. Yeah. Vermillion or Crimson seemed like a cool name. He should copyright it for another life or something.

Before he could respond, Tommy felt the ground tilt underneath him, stumbling towards the counter as the room decided, yes, 45-degree angle is the best way the floor should be. Purpled just held onto a rope. Tommy realized he had tied around his waist for this exact purpose. Ender was smashed between the corner of the table and a planter that had slid from who knows where in his direction.

Purpled sighed. “At least the painting didn’t rip open the void again.”

And then the painting ripped open the void. Speak of the devil, and the internet will make R34 of it. That's how the saying goes, right?

A hand stuck out of the endless dark area, reaching to the side of the frame to pull itself out, like some horror movie type shit. It was pretty impressive, because Tommy once tried lifting himself over a wall, and that was not easy. That angle looked absolutely taxing on the weight distribution, so mad respect to people who can.

Oh yeah, the arm.

Purpled grabbed a spray bottle, and the two vigilantes (Brazil and Eyeball or whatever the fuck their names were) pulled out some sort of stick-shaped weapon. Mmmm, Tommy knew he shouldn’t've left his Cast Iron Skillet at home, but alas.

Luckily for them (or just Tommy in general), the rest of the body ended up being Philza and his entourage of children. That being, Crow pulling his lazy, useless, dead weight trust fund children dressed in supervillain costumes out of the void.

“Thank you again, Kristin. Have a good day Dear,” Crow spoke to the painting frame as the void folded back up into a regular painting again. Tommy considered switching teams to see if he could get better deals with the Goddess of Death when the stupid idiots behind him started causing a scene.

“You!” Ender slid knives out of his sleeve, which was actually pretty fucking cool in Tommy’s opinion, but hush, he is biased towards people taller than him who do not donate their height to a charitable cause (i.e, himself). Siren fell into a fighting stance, hand reaching for his pocket.

“Do you reckon they're trapped here or should we hit them to see if they’re illusions?” The Blade said mockingly, moving his hand to grab his sword. Bee held something in his hand that began to make a loud, charging-up whirring noise that Tommy was not comfortable hearing.

Great. He wanted pancakes, and now he's got to deal with a boss battle. Fuck no. Time to play mediator.

He rang the bell at the front desk a couple of times to get everyone's attention, as the world should be.

“Ladies, ladies, you're all beautiful. Beautiful enough to love the one and only Tommyinnit, of course– But we have pancakes to annihilate, so take your cat fighting outside after.” he turned to Purpled, who looked bored.

“Can we get a table for 4?” Tommy asked nicely, because he's a nice guy.

“No.”

Damn, so this is what happens when you try to be nice in life. The world just takes and takes.

Bee lowered his ‘now glowing yellow and buzzing’ weapon and looked in Tommy’s direction.

“What do you mean four?!”

Crow looked up at Tommy from where he was standing, trying to stand in the shadows. (‘Trying’, because the entire room kept changing where light was coming from, and what color lighting. It was currently set on a warm blue tone and shone from the floor. Hence, lack of shadows to stand in. Somehow Phil made it work, because he’s Phil.)

Crow pointed at Tommy and said, “We’re with him.”

Tommy pointed at himself to feel involved. “They're with me.”

Ender pointed at Tommy because he's a copycat. “YOU'RE WITH THEM?!”

Purpled pointed at himself. “And I don't let people who are on good terms with god order. We refuse the right to serve and all that. And because I'm petty.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Pretty sure that's like, half the people in the room.”

“Being petty or knowing god?”

“Yes.”

The Blade raised his hand. “Not me. I fistfought god once for a cool piece of rock.”

Tommy gasped. “Bro, you have one too?! Cool god rocks go brrrrr.”

Ender waved his hands around and shook his head. “Wait, wait, wait, can we go back to the part where you and them are here together? Is this a kidnapping? A hostage plot? A sort of plot to overthrow the government that involves raccoons? I knew those bastards were not normal-”

“Omg, just shut up. I want pancakes.” Tommy complained, hushing him to silence. And also emotionally traumatizing him in the process, but really, it was getting old. Its been like, 400 words.

Phil was also tired of everyone's bullshit (he was also hungry), and walked up to Purpled. “You're the worker here?”

“No, I just wandered in here for fun and cosplayed as an IHOP employee.”

Crow raised an eyebrow, checked over his shoulder to make sure Siren and Blade hadn't started fighting the poor vigilantes, and put his hands up in a sign of peace. “No need to be like that, I assure you. We aren't here to cause problems. Merely to be served.”

Purpled crossed his arms. “Oh, I can serve. But you'd have to follow me on TikTok to see.”

Phil looked between Tommy and Purpled, trying to figure out if they were twins separated at birth or if he's going to have to deal with another piece of shit gremlin for another chapter.

Siren pushed aside Phil and slammed his hands down on the table. Tommy rolled his eyes. Damatic ahh bitch.

“I know how to handle these types of kids, Crow, just watch-” Siren began, but was interrupted by Purpled.

“Welcome to Wendy's. How can I help you.” he droned emotionlessly.

Wilbur narrowed his eyes. “We’re at IHOP.”

“Are you sure?”

“Uhhh yeah.”

“Try again.”

Wilbur.exe stopped responding.

Tommy glared at Purpled.

“Can we just PLEASE get a table,” Tommy complained as Purpled grabbed a potted plant to avoid hitting his head. (It was floating aimlessly.)

“Maybe. I don't know. Can you?”

Tommy pointed to the vigilante duo who had just been off-screen for a couple of sentences sadly. “Do you really want to keep stalling when these fuckers can eventually start causing problems?”

“HEY-”

“What-”

Purpled grimaced. “Fair enough. Table for how many?”

“Party of four.”

“Can I join?”

Tommy glared at him. “No. Party of 4.”

“I can make it 5.”

“I can make you leave this chapter, but we don’t always get what we want.”

Purpled rolled his eyes. “Fine. Gatekeep all the fun. I was always just a side character anyways. I see I'm not loved. The masses will rue the day I don’t use my deus ex machina powers to move along the plot-”

Ender tapped Tommy’s shoulder while Purpled monologued to literally no one. “Can we join? To like, keep an eye out on the villains to make sure you're safe, not cause we also want pancakes and also it's scary here.”

“Yo Purpled,” Tommy called out. “Make that party of 6.”

“OH COME ON-” Purpled’s eye twitched.

“Customers are always right bitch. Now feed us.”

•—————•

So, having 3 supervillains and 2 vigilantees at the same IHOP table is a recipe for chaos. He acknowledges this. He is aware of this. He doomscrolled for this. But disaster will not strike tonight (morning?) for everyone is too busy focusing on the elephant in the room.

“Listen I get the place is fucked, but why is there AN ELEPHANT ON THE CEILING?!” Siren shrieked, living up to his name.

“Oh, so we are just going to ignore the stream of floating items across the room?” Bee yelled back. They keep pointing out the obvious. It's getting tiring. Like, yes this is a fucking shithole. Could you not tell the first 10 MINUTES they’ve been here?!

Purpled led them all to their table, which had been a long process from the reception desk that included crawling under huge cracks in a rift in the space time continune, having gravity switch up a couple more times but for each person individually (Tommy will admit that holding Wilbur like a balloon as the taller man screamed like a child for his life was pretty funny), playing death stop light with some smiley face that Tommy’s pretty sure lives in the Backrooms –which he did see a hallway that look suspiciously like said room– and also climb down a mountain cliffside.

A cliffside.

At 3 am.

Physical activity at 3 am.

He doesn't get paid enough for this. Those pancakes better be FUCKING worth it.

It also didn’t help that the vigilante duo was obsessed with him and the rest of the villains. It's literally not that deep. Their comments did not go unnoticed.

“Do you even know who these weaklings are?” Techno asked Tommy while everyone walked on a bridge across a river of some bright red liquid that nobody wanted to inquire about.

Tommy grabbed Techno’s shoulder and gave him a wild look. “Canonically no. Surprising, I know, it's chapter what 15? And I haven’t met the legendary vigilante duo.”

Techno resisted against his bullshit, he’s LEARNING– and turned to the mentioned vigilantes.

“How do you know him?” the pink-haired man said with a low voice, sounding almost threatening.

“Well, how do you know him? I daresay it's way more suspicious, seeing as how you are villains.” Ender replied, sending the Blade a glare. Siren scoffed.

“He’s under our protection.”

Bee shook an angry fist at them. “The fuc- what kind of protection could you people offer– no, since when would an innocent civilian be involved with the likes of you?!”

Tommy looked up. “Chapter one.”

“Shut up Tommy,” Beeduo and Twinduo said at the exact same time. Tommy sighed dramatically.

“Oh, so this suddenly isn’t a Tommyinnit conversation. I see how it is– I’m going to go stand in the corner and cry.”

They ignored him in favor of getting into a heated debate. Tommy hopes they fall through one of the random holes that were appearing on the ground to the beat of Rush E.

Siren crossed his arms in frustration. “We claimed his habitation. There was like a whole?? Sign?? If you know him, you would have seen it.”

Bee coughed. Like a fake fucker. “We don’t know where he lives. We aren’t stalkers, unlike some people.”

The Blade loomed above them menacingly. “Is this the part where we're supposed to ignore the fact you knew his name?”

Tommy called out to them. “Don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard.”

Wilbur pulled Bee slightly aside to show the shorter individual Google Maps on the former’s phone.

“He lives here-yeah, the same street as that one Italian restaurant that’s fucking good.”

Ender puffed up behind Bee and looked away. “Not really all that reassuring to know even the lowest of people can still recognize good spaghetti.”

Tommy sighed. “Can we not leak my address.”

“We don’t patrol around there,” Bee said.

“Yeah, people do try to sleep, you know. We center more towards small businesses and streets than residential areas.” Ender added on.

Siren hummed. “Maybe I‘ll tolerate your presence since you may be on the right side of the law, but you aren’t assholes.”

Bee frowned and held up another one of his machines spinning menacingly. “Hey, hey, don't go assuming we follow the law like a rulebook. It's a suggestion.”

“And murder is a reasonable solution,” Ender added.

Techno perked up at that and dropped a significant amount of the ‘will kill you’ vibes. “Would you be interested in joining my cool book club on anarchy perchance.”

Ender looked intrigued. “Tell me more.”

Tommy turned to make eye contact with Purpled and said, “What in the lore did I just experience?”

.0.

They were seated at a table for 6 people in a more normal-looking IHOP room. More restaurant than wall-melting horror. A couple of isolated tables and fake photos of people on walls that look like they had their families threatened into taking the photo. But that's pretty normal.

Oh, except for the pond.

“How longeth doth thee bethink these people shall lasteth bef're those gents giveth up on pancakes.”

“wherefore doth thee has't to beest so negative?”

The snapping turtles seem to be happily vibing as they chatted in Shakespearean English for some reason. Tommy is not one to judge the nightlife of snapping turtles, but IHOP pond does not seem like a fun hangout place in his opinion.

Techno openly stared at the turtles while everyone was sitting down. “Why do they talk like that?”

Ender sent him a look. “You say that as if turtles usually talk??”

“At which hour doth thee bethink those gents shall findeth out we owneth many stocks in the marketeth”

“nay way. Seemeth too close-mind'd to me.”

Crow seemed to have grown tired of this entire place by now. His wings were fluffed up in annoyance. And sand. That desert they crossed a couple of minutes ago was pretty windy.

“Shouldn’t we be fixing this? It doesn’t sit right with me,” he says to Tommy, who immediately rolls his eyes. What a quitter. 99% of villains quit before they get their pancakes. Tommy is the outlier. He's also not a villain, but eh, statistics.

“Nah, let’s eat first. I’m hungry.”

“Hi, hungry. I’m dad.” Phil says automatically. Tommy gasped.

“PHILZA, IS THIS YOU ADOPTING ME? CAN I CALL YOU DADZA?!”

“The blond wench is just desp'rate at this pointeth.”

“Break thee off, johnny. This is wherefore nay one likes thee.”

Philza, bless his Karen ass, shot a glare at Purpled. “Are they going to be like that the entire time?” he said, annoyed.

Purpled looked over his shoulder. “Good question. Anyways, here are the menus if you can figure out how to read them. If you want any drinks, tell me now before I miss the next 30-second window to enter the kitchen.”

Tommy looked down at the menu that was printed upside down, reverse, and backwards. Oh, and just a shit ton of Zalgo text. He sighed and tried his best to remember what he got last time he went to an IHOP.

“Can we just all get water? It's late anyways.” Phil said, like the boomer he was.

“Nah fuck that. I'm having coffee.” Wilbur interrupted.

“Dude, IHOP coffee is shit,” Bee said. “On that note, I’ll also take a black coffee.”

Techno cleared his throat. “Pink lemonade for me.”

Ender looked at him. “Do they even have that?”

“They better.”

Crow sighed, annoyed at his son’s pink lemonade antics, probably. Tommy would usually take Phil’s side to up his chances of getting adopted but on the other hand. Pink lemonade.

“I will also get the pink lemonade,” Tommy added.

And then everyone looked at Ender. Stared at the guy. Really made him squirm.

“...Sprite? Please?”

“BASIC ASS BITCH-” Purpled crackled in his face before leaving them to decipher the menus.

Philza held out the menu like an old man trying to read without glasses. Bee pulled out a notebook and tried to treat it like a decoding project. Siren just shifted his entire body in an attempt to read the menu. He held it up to the ceiling (that could not be seen, as it seemed like it stretched on forever, like that SCP IKEA on Roblox). That menu proceeded to morph into a rubber chicken. Shocked, Wilbur dropped it on his face.

“What the fuck.” Siren noted, staring at the rubber chicken on the table.

“Skill issue,” Techno commented.

“oh ho so thats wh're julius wenteth.” the turtles added. “doth me a fav'r and toss that gent ov'r.”

Siren yeeted the rubber chicken in the worst throw Tommy has the displease of viewing. A snake swung out of nowhere from the bushes by the pond and tossed it onto one of the rocks in the middle of the pond, where most turtles were chilling. They all took to squeezing it repetitively, making the squeezing noise scream over and over again.

“Oh my god, that’s so annoying,” Bee mumbled under his breath. Without hesitation, Ender stood up violently and whipped out a comically large rocket launcher that unfolded itself, pointing it towards the turtles. It started glowing like a giant laser pointer.

The turtles paused from their rubber chicken squeezing.

“Try me bitch. Do it. Do it I fucking dare you.” Ender warned.

The turtles looked at each other and then at Ender.

“Bro, chill. It was just a prank,” one of them said.

Purpled chose that moment to fall from the ceiling. He landed with a flip.

“Sorry about that. Your drinks are lagging behind by 7 seconds, I think.”

He stuck out his hand just in time to catch the tray of drinks, cups, and coffee. Not a single drop spilled. Tommy was almost impressed until he remembered it was Purpled.

He passed the drinks out to everyone, serving the coffee to Bee and Wilbur with a warning of, “If it tries to bite you, stab it immediately.”

Siren and Bee just looked at each other and grabbed the butter knives with their other hand.

Tommy pointed at the menu. “Can I get the strawberry pancakes?”

Purpled glared at him. “I don't know, can you?”

“Ok, that's it-”

Before Tommy could throw hands, Techno looked up from his reading glasses (where the fuck did those come from-) and looked at Purpled dead in the eye when he said. “Can I get the 2 X 2 X 2.”

Ender turned his Menu upside down. Or it could be rightside up. “There's no way that's a real item. Where does it say that?” he inquired. The menu spilled out at least 50 paper clips in response.

Purpled wrote down Blade’s order. “Do you want sausage or bacon with that?”

“Hypothetically, how much bacon can you give me?”

Purpled stopped writing for a second. “Good question.” He nodded for about a good minute or two. Techno stared at him.

“…so you gonna answer?”

“Nah, I just think it’s a good question,” Purpled said.

“Fine, be that way. Sausage then.”

Purpled pouted. “Lame. How do you want your eggs?”

“Dead.”

“Fair enough,” he said, looking towards Siren. Siren pointed at Techno.

“I'm having what he’s having,” Siren said, like a lazy ass. Tommy looked over to where Ender had pulled out an ouija board planchette and was using it over the menu that strangely started glowing. He muttered to himself so low no one at the table could hear, before he stopped and looked up.

“I'm getting this one,” he pointed to the menu confidently. Purpled looked over.

“Nice choice, vanilla plain boy. We have hope for you yet.”

Phil finally got the chance to speak, but he forgot that he was also at a table with menaces.

“Can I get the “

“PHILS HAVING THE OLD MAN PANCAKES-“ Wilbur interrupted.

“Ok, one old man pancake coming up,” Purpled replied. Tommy was afraid to ask what the old man pancakes were.

Bee lifted his menu, er, what was left of it anyway. It seemed to have been ripped in two and melted from chemicals. Whether from the place or Bee is yet to be determined.

“Can i get a whooper?” he said with a straight face. Purpled scrunched up his nose.

“Sir, we are at IHOP-”

“CAN I GET A WHOOPA?!”

“CAN YOU SHUT YOUR BITCH ASS UP-” he seethe, breathing through his teeth. Bee did not in fact shut up.

“Tee-hee, I would like the French toast,” he continued in a posh accent. Purpled flipped him off but wrote it down anyway.

“Bacon or sausage.”

“I don’t eat bacon.”

“I don’t care, get a sausage then,” he said, starting to regret interacting with Bee in the first place, bringing up Bee in the likeability chart in Tommy’s head.

Bee leaned forward onto the table. “Does it come in vegan?”

“Sir, with no due respect, it’s a sausage. If it comes in vegan, it’s probably not safe to consume.”

“I'll take that then.”

The rest of the table had watched the interaction with vague interest, but Tommy held up a hand.

“Is a vegan sausage just an egg roll?” he wondered aloud. Everyone groaned.

“Egg is not vegan.” Crow pointed out wisely.

“Your ass ain't vegan.”

“What does that even-”

Purpled checked his watch and sighed. “I'll be in the kitchens if you need me.”

Tommy sputtered. “What about me? My order?”

Purpled stared at him like he was stupid, which was incredibly rude but not far off. “You literally told me Strawberry Pancakes already.”

“Listen here, you-”

Before Tommy could once again throw hands (and knives) at him, Ender interrupted.

"Wait a second. Are you the only one working here?" he inquired, clearly not using any of his brain cells. Duh, of course, no one is going to be working here. Look at the state of the place.

Purpled glared at the tallest vigilante. "Fuck you, I've 100% Papa's Pizzeria before. This ain't nothing I can't handle."

Ender looked like he wanted to jump on him. he crossed his arms and tilted his head like a bird. "You say that like it's some impressive task. Consider. Papa' freezeria."

Purpled looked like he was going to genuinely kill Ender, something Tommy could not be having with the rated PG-13 vibe he's got going on. Leave the blood and gore for another story. he cleared his throat loudly to capture the two's attention.

"Don't you have a job to do? I'm considering not tipping if you keep this attitude up." Tommy said.

Purpled flipped him off, stuck his other hand out, and grabbed a floating horizontal pole that was randomly floating upward into the abyss, carrying Purpled along with it. Either that was the actual way to the kitchen, or Purpled just wanted to be a dramatic son of a bitch. could be 50/50 with that guy.

The table and Co went quiet from the event. One would think they had gotten used to it by now.

“Ok. This place is really starting to hurt my brain." Siren said, slamming his head onto the table.

"Oh sure, and it has nothing to do with slamming your head onto the table." Bee snarked.

"He probably didn't have much of it to begin with." Ender added, hopping onto the 'lets bully Siren' bandwagon. it was already pretty crowded in there though, Tommy might have to push someone off of it at this rate. He had called shotgun first.

"This is bullying I think." Siren pointed out to the vigilantes, to which the two just shrugged.

"No no, this is basically our jobs." Bee stated, using the butter knife to gesture between himself and Ender. "We vigilante the fuck out of people and then break their morals so badly they cry and maybe answer their mom's calls for once."

"My mom is dead."

Well this just got awkward.

And also complicated. What even is this family tree anymore. Hey he should join this conversation he hasn't said anything for a while.

"Hubert is dead," Tommy added sadly. The two of them just stared at him. good. better befuddlement than talking about childhood trauma in HIS IHOP adventure. Really now. Have some decency.

"Who." Siren asked, probably concerned. Not even necessarily for one thing, Tommy's just a concerning person to be around.

"Some gecko that climbed onto my windowsill one time. He fell off the building. It was truly tragic."

Philza, who was listening to the stupidities his kids and Co were getting up to, frowned. "Don't lizards have zero fall damage?"

Everyone looked at him in horror and disappointment simultaneously. He looked back at them back confused. "What?"

"There is so much wrong with what you just said." Ender pointed out. Siren just shook his head and sighed.

"Knew we should've left him at home."

Tommy threw his hands out to shush the idiot who dared to question Tommy's choice of company. "If Philza Minecraft himself has reassured me that Hubert lives, then I shall await his return someday."

And then he realized that he said Philza Minecraft instead of Crow, the villains current persona. Team SBI aka the villians all facepalmed in sych which was lowkey satisfying if you forget the fact that he just doxed Mr. Minecrafts fun hobby of crime and GTA. How will he ever get written into the the rich man’s Will now?

"I feel like I should know what a pillza monecraft is, but I can't remember why. Wasn't he like on a TV show once?" Ender turned to Tommy as if he was catching up on the weather forecast for next week and not asking for confirmation of a secret identity. Tommy just shrugged. Phil seemed rich enough to star in a TV show. Ender sighed. Bee, on the other hand, connected the dots well enough. a little TOO well if you ask Tommy.

"Wait a second...Philza...Crow...this all makes sense...all those mission timelines and appearances...it all makes sense...but that means... there's so much more to this... the dominoes are all falling into place..." Bee muttered to himself, ignoring his partner's questions.

The Blade not-so-friendly nudged Ender, who had pulled out a phone to Google Philza or something. "Can you just forget that was ever mentioned?"

Ender nodded confidently. "Oh yeah, of course! Here, let me just-"

He proceeded to stick his hand by his head, twist something, and ended up slamming onto the table head down, passed out.

"Damn, he's good?" Tommy asked, poking the guy's head even though he was unresponsive. On the bright side, the hair seemed pretty soft. mmmm texture.

"Yeah, yeah, he'll be fine...more importantly," Bee said offhandly, "The political Iceberg videos on Youtube could be right about several conspiracy theories happening in the city at this very moment..."

Tommy looked at Bee and noticed the other was lost in his mind. He should probably warn the guy or something.

"You should watch out for the pipeline. It's probably dangerous."

Siren smirked. "Ah, yes. ignorance is bliss as they say, now make like a fool and drown in the reality of this cruel world- WAIT, IS THAT AN ACTUAL PIPELINE-"

A metal pipe that Tommy watched slowly rise from behind their booth snuck up behind Bee and redirected itself towards the sound of Siren's voice. Siren's head. It started shooting assorted small hard plastic objects towards Siren, who tried to duck out of the way.

"OW FUCK! Is- is this a LEGO?!- OW- NOT THE EYES-"

Tommy picked up a Lego figurine (the Batman one from 2009, heh classic-) out of his own drink and flicked it over to the snapping turtles. They'd probably appreciate it. Or maybe not. They were too busy side-eyeing the rocket launcher that was still aimed in their general direction.

Rocket launchers make good Do Not Disturb signs.

He turned to Techno, who was suspiciously quiet for more than Tommy was used to.

"Are we leaving you out. Do you feel left out? Do you want to feel included?" Tommy asked him. The former ignored him, too busy doing what Tommy realized was reading the back label of ingredients on one of the syrup containers.

Fine then. Next time he's left out of the shenanigans, Tommy won't help him.

Siren held Techno’s cold drink against his face, now sporting some interesting-looking bruises. “That’s it. This dumb place is going to lead to certain death.” He declared. Tommy rolled his eyes.

“Oh, please. I have an unbeatable method to avoid that.”

Wilbur moved the drink away from his face to stare at Tommy.

“And what is that?”

“You don’t.”

Before Siren can find any loopholes in Tommyinnit’s Unbeatable Method, a voice called out from the side.

“Did somebody say Canadian Maple Syrup?”

The table turned to the sight of Purpled carrying two trays of food, balancing to the point where something should have fallen and probably will within the next ten seconds.

“No. No body said that.” The spoilsport Siren retorted.

“Good because we don’t have any. You get fake artificial and food color corn syrup like a good American.” Purpled stuck out his tongue while practically throwing all of the plates onto the table. The plates somehow slid perfectly in front of each person, each order lining up perfectly with the right person.

“What’s an American,” Crow asked, probably trying to play dumb. Or not. Who knows if America really exists or if it’s just a collective hallucination. People on the internet are known to be liars.

Nobody wanted to answer the question, probably too busy inspecting the pancakes for something that could kill them. Or trying to figure out what to eat first. It was a genuine thing to think about. Tommy was planning on attacking the center of the pancakes first when Ender rose from his coma at the smell of food.

“Oh hey pancakes- what IS this?” He said, making a face at his plate.

“What you ordered,” Purpled replied.

“And what in the four dimensions did I order?”

“Did you just count the aether as a dimension.”

“That’s not what I’m asking you.”

Purpled looked like he wanted to stab someone. Tommy wanted someone to stab somebody. He wouldn’t mind a show while he destroyed his pancakes. He reached for the bottle of syrup, but it was stolen by Siren. The guy had the audacity to stare at Tommy while pouring syrup into his pancakes. Tommy threw his butter knife at him, but was caught midway by Blade, who chose that moment to steal the syrup from Siren's hands while the latter was processing the fact Tommy threw a knife at him.

Meanwhile, Purpled was still dodging the question.

“Seriously, the Aether is a myth; it doesn’t actually exist.”

“Please- why do my pancakes look like this?”

“I know there’s research on the potential of another dimension from the Deep Dark, but usually in reference of 4 dimensions, people usually refer to the infamous Aether dimension-“

“I’m going to throw this plate at your face.”

“That’s so hot.”

Phil started cutting his old man pancakes, ignoring the syrup bottle flying over his head as Tommy stomped on techno’s foot, which caused him to throw said syrup.

“Pass the butter please,” Crow said politely to Bee, who handed it across the table without looking up from inhaling his French toast. Nobody dared put their hands near his mouth for fear of being mistaken for food.

Which Tommy couldn’t blame him for. These pancakes are good. Probably not Food Wars level good, but he also likes his clothes, so he’ll settle for these pancakes. Especially with all the commotion leading up to here, it made the food taste like victory. And strawberries. But mostly victory.

Techno calmly lifted his plate of eggs from getting smashed by Siren, who elbowed the table in an attempt to keep his plate from falling on his frontside. He was a mess, but nothing is necessary new in that department. Like a child eating food. Also, syrup in hair does not look comfortable.

Tommy turned to Techno, who shrugged. “I've had to protect my food from him before,” he simply stated.

Bee was separated from trying to become one with the pancakes to stop Ender from committing homicide.

“Ender, please, can we consider the option of eating your food.”

“Have we considered violence as an option?”

“It’s option E.”

“E? Which ones? D?”

Prupled interrupted with- “Deez nuts-“

Tommy ducked when Ender tackled Bee and Purpled at the same time. The table bumped where they pushed it upwards while Phil started holding his water cup to keep it from knocking down. He didn't try to separate the fight, though. Possibly because he had already retired from being an adult around 1 am.

Wow, what time even is it?

Time…

Oh yeah, he had a job to do.

But first, pancakes.

•—————•

With only ¼ of the food ending up on the floor, chairs, and bodies, everyone seemed pretty much winded down from the pancake fever. Or whatever you want to call that. Tommy, sneaky plotter extraordinaire, needed an excuse actually start his job. So naturally.

“So how hard do you think it’ll take to find the bathroom around here?” Tommy asked. He also needed to use the restroom. The pink lemonade was just too good. And having sticky hands was awful.

Purpled smiled eerily, which was never a good sign. “Fastest method I know will depend on how lucky you are.”

Tommy leaned on his hands. “I always have good odds.”

“Alright then. Traveling table roulette time.”

The table and booth started spinning, making everyone hold onto them for dear life. Despite their attempts, Tommy saw each person get flung off into a different direction, off into oblivion or maybe a Wendy’s.

A few seconds later, his fingers slipped, throwing him far, far away…

Just kidding. He fell like 2 feet from the pond.

“Ow.” He said, because it seemed like something to do.

He got up to his feet and dusted off his pants. There was way too much dirt on the floor to be a hygienic restaurant, but then again. Cursed IHOP.

Tommy turned away from a bright light that shone from the pond, bathing the surrounding area in a sort of green light. It dimmed down, and Tommy stared through the now clear pond water to see a hallway under it. Like underwater.

“Please tell me that’s not the bathroom.” He complained to the snapping turtles, who ignored him. Fuck them, honestly. He knew they were assholes from the start.

He gingerly stepped into the pond, testing the waters.

Ahahahaha- testing the waters. Get it?

For some reason, Tommy did not get wet. He felt the water, but his clothes stayed dry.

“What in the Percy Jackson shit is this?” He muttered as he waded into the water. He’s just trying to find a restroom, damn it.

When he reached the bottom of the pond, aka a new hallway, he felt vaguely disoriented from the effect of water resistance despite being able to breathe and not being wet. It was cool but in a ‘this is wrong’ kinda way. He had to keep his feet below him and keep swimming downward, or he would float back up. Unpleasant. He hopes the bathroom isn’t like this either.

The first door he swam to was green, perfectly square, and made of copper. Looked sus in his opinion. He passed by it without wanting to open it.

The second doorway he passed was a marble archway with heavy, dark wooden doors that were twice his size. The only issue with it was that it was slightly tilted into the ground. Tommy thought of passing it, but decided against it. Not cause he had a feeling that it was the right door, but because his arms were getting tired.

He grabbed the handlebar and then spent about a minute trying to figure out if it’s a push or pull.

“Fucking heavy ass door.” He said, watching air bubbles float out of his mouth. He wondered if anyone else is fairing better.

See, this is the part where the story would cut away, but fuck that Tommy is the main character and that means you’re stuck with him whether you like it or not.

The door ended up sliding upwards (wasn’t a push OR pull WHAT) like a garage door, revealing…

An entire room covered roof to floor in American flags. With fireworks actively going off inside. And the sound–oh fuck the sound. The American national anthem with gun noises and bald eagle screeches blasted into Tommy’s ears and vibrated into his skin. And it sounded underwater too, to boot.

Tommy shut the door.

Waited ten seconds.

Opened it again.

“I just wanna be part of your SYPHONY-“

“This is going to suck.”

•—————•

6 doors, 3 hallways, 2 accidental Backrooms no-clips, and 7 trapdoors later, and there was still no bathroom.

Tommy was starting to get annoyed. He wasn’t underwater anymore, but he’s pretty sure he walked through a mirror because when he moved left, he went right, and it very much hurts his mind.

He walked down the rusted pipe looking hallway and sighed when he reached a dead end. He groaned and stomped his way back where he came from, when a bright light hit him. Which was weird since it was a dark hall. This golden light just came out of nowhere.

Tommy stared at the source of the light. It was a pocket watch. A golden pocket watch. With only one hour on it.

“Aren’t you the fucking thing I’m supposed to be getting?” Tommy asked it.

It did not answer.

Tommy rolled his eyes. The anticlimactic discovery was not on his bucket list. He’s trying to find the bathroom and THEN Daylight Savings. Why couldn’t it wait its turn?

…but while he’s here, might as well.

He scooped up the glowing golden pocket watch, sticking it in The Box™. Do not ask what The Box™ is. Do not ask where The Box™ is from. Do not ask where The Box™ will go. It is not for you to know.

Anyways. Now that daylight savings time has been achieved, he can continue his quest to find the restroo-

He turned around to find himself in a regular IHOP.

Oh yeah. Cursed item retrieve equals no more cursed IHOP. Damn.

Purpled stared at him from the now very normal counter. “Did you end up finding the bathroom?” He asked.

Tommy frowned. “No.”

Purpled walked over, patted Tommy on the shoulders.

“Tough shit.” And then handed him the bill for the food.

“HOLY SHIT”

Purpled grabbed Tommy’s credit card. “Welcome to IHOP fucker.”

Tommy could feel the call of capitalism like a siren luring sailors to their doom. “I should've realized it. Sob.”

Purpled rolled his eyes. “I'm sure youve spent more on Sahara impulse buys. I know i have.”

Tommy stared at him. Purpled stared back. Two guys staring at each other in an empty restaurant at Ass Crack O’ Clock. Wait. empty restaurant. Tommy looked away to look around the place before feeling like he lost children at an amusement park.

“Where did everyone go?”

Purpled pointed to the moon out the window, which figures. “Home. They got vibe checked and sent home.”

“How anticlimactic.”

Purpled handed him his receipt. “Is that that bad. Themes and conclusions to an adventure are not necessary for having a good time-”

“Ok, seriously, I have to use the restroom-” Tommy interrupted.

“Down the hall to the left.”

Text messages from:

Bench trio

I forgor:

Hey Tommy uh

Bee boy:

We got something important to tell you

Big man:

Why tf r yall texting me at 8 in the morning whose soul did you sell and who do I need to gamble it back from?

Bee boy:

Shit up

Ahut*

Shut**

FUCK OFF

I forgor:

Not important

Uh but it’s gotta be live

We wanna tell you in person

Big man:

YOUR GETTINF DIVORCED??

D:

Bee boi:

WHAT

I forgor:

WERE WE MARRIED???

Big man:

YOUR GETTINF MARRIED??? WITH OUT ME?? WAS I NOT INVITED TO THE WEDDING??? OR THE POLY?? TF

bee boi:

NO

WELL

FUCK OFF NO

THATS LITERALLY NOT EVEN WHAT WE’RE TALKING ABOUT

Big man:

OH SHIT

SO

YOUR PREGNANT THEN

I forgor:

TUBBO IS THIS WHY YOU THREW UP IN THE BATHROOM RHE OTHER DAY

WHOS THE FATHER????

bee boi:

SYBAU KYS TS PMO

two people are typing…