#It’s been almost a year since I’ve drawn Tubbo I think

[hogletthe2nd]

Lighting could be better but I’m pretty sure someone just tried to break into my house so. Not going outside for better lighting.

[lillian-nator]

Wallflower AU (aka highschool au made w/ @bellfort3)

V i b e s - hanging on the roof; walking across train tracks; skipping school; Lakes, yes, something with lakes; something with different types of sodas. - My angsty teens are gonna have painted nails - Tommy bleaches his hair; Wilbur dyes his hair black - dramatic fuck. - Wilbur in eyeliner plz - Wilbur wears doc martens; black, yellow, maroon, silver shiny - Tommy's worn the same exact jean jacket for the past 5 years; it's 2 sizes bigger than he is; but he wears it every single day; it has fur on the inside; and its light washed with tears; the tears didn’t come like it; he's just ripped it over the years - He doesn't wash it very often, but he's glued patches on it, and Wilbur's drawn on it in sharpie. He just layers hoodies or flannels under it when it’s cold, but still wears it when it's hot - Tommy's also worn the same shoes for YEARS, they’re duct taped together at this point, they're white converse, they're not white anymore, and he's bleach-washed them SO many times that they permanently smell like chemicals. - The laces are frayed, so bad that he doesn’t even wear the laces most days. - Tommy doesn't shy from going in mud or water though, he'll wear the shoes to their fullest and then some. - I think you can tell by now, that Tommy just doesn’t come from a lot of money. - They live in a kind of run down town, very poor, old, smallish. - Wilbur is middle class, which is very well off in the area he lives in. - Wilbur gives off family disappointment vibes. Where he has to sneak out at night, Tommy can leave through his front door. - Wilbur calls Tommy “sunshine”, but very sarcastically since Tommy is a dick :) - Tommy has one of Wilbur's old beanies; it's black and monster branded, the monster logo is green - Wilbur gave it to Tommy 3 years ago, and Tommy never gave it back - btw Tommy's 17 and Wilbur's 19: Tommy's a junior and Wilbur's a senior - Wilbur only drinks Green Apple Monster - Tommy drinks sugar free redbull, but mostly only when Wilbur buys it for him, because Tommy usually doesn't have pocket change - Wilbur and Tommy bring speakers to the train tracks and dance and by that, its them jumping around and occasionally pushing someone over - Tommy uses his allowance to buy cigarettes; Wilbur vapes - both mentally ill - Wilbur is essentially the modern emo. He has this one yellow and black flannel that's oversized, and he wears it multiple times a week - it’s a problem.

- Dream, Wilbur, Karl, Tommy, Big Q, SapNap, Punz, and Tubbo - That’s the group. - I have just been talking about Tommy and Wilbur but they are the main characters so you can suck it. - A scene with Dream, Wilbur, Karl, Tommy, Big Q, SapNap, Punz, and Tubbo, at a lake, throwing each other in, and Tommy gets his shoes soaked, but he saves his jacket from the fall. Water gun fights, and they drink energy drinks and eat chips. they lay in the grass and contemplate life, Talk abt life yes. Abt existence. Abt how shit it is. Half of them have to wake up early and sneak home, the other half get to stay as long as they like. - Tommy tucks his t-shirts into his pants, which are always very baggy black jeans with just gigantic holes. - Tommy and Dream both have ADHD, however, Tommy's meds are purely from welfare, he cannot afford to give any out. Dream however? From an upper-middleclass family. Basically millionaires in this town. He can afford to lose some of his meds. - He yells in the clearing "COME GET YOUR DRUGS CHILDREN" - Besides, I've learned that there are like so many different ADHD meds, and maybe Tommy is just on something a lot stronger than adderall. He can't partake in the pill popping, but he doesn't mind. He does it every morning. - They don't do it often, maybe once a month, depends on how big Dream's prescription is - not that he regularly takes them like a good boy should - And I won't ever write this, but Gogy hangs out with them every so often, in which Gogy and Wilbur have an on and off again hooking up type relationship - whenever they hang out, Gogy like sits and Wilbur's lap and shit - Tommy and Punz GAG - "EW the fuck - get your hands off eachother. ITS GROSS - NO PDA IN MY BACKYARD"

- They hang out in an abandoned Building. But they don't try to fix it up. They're not fucking VSCO girls. They just want somewhere to hang out - If anything they make it worse - they fucking trash the place - It’s not intentional though - It’s like they can have fun without worrying abt the mess - just, sometimes they spill hawiian punch mixed with vodka everywhere - THEY GHOST HUNT AND OUIJA BOARD AND SHIT - They hang out in cemeteries too. they play manhunt in a cemetery, but like the regular version- like just hide and go seek in the dark. - they've done seances even though almost all of them are atheists - anyways the point of the fact is, is that half of them (excluding the minors you know) I'm looking at you Karl and Q - somethings going on between you two have made out with guys, and I'm not gonna sugar coat it, most modern like takes on religion do not take kindly to that

- they go to prom - and Dream somehow ends up with a ton of weed, because he had just turned old enough, and had the money - and they get fucking high OUT of their minds, like they're never doing it again - like, George and Wilbur definitely hooked up at Wilbur's house, which they aren't supposed to do - because Wilbur's parents will fucking flip that Wilbur is sleeping with a random person. No one is quite sure where SapNap ended up, and Tommy lost one of his shoes. In a panic, they spent the next 3 hours looking for it to find it at the lake by the school - Tommy fucking cradles it to his chest. -  (are wilburs parents homophobic?) (yes maybe a little side of homophobia) (Is wilbur bisexual or gay?) (he is ‘whoever the fuck looks bangable’) (fair enough) (he is ‘gogy my king’) (TRUUUE) - the bleachers - they hang out under the bleachers

- Gogy = Stylish stoner - very popular, but never not high - Karl is like the goody two-shoes of the group, doesn't skip class, and is on the principals list, however, he will NEVER back down from space brownies - its his weakness - Tubbo has a subway pass, and they do that thing where Tubbo swipes it and everyone fucking bolts into the subway, and they take all the trains at like 4am and just hang from the bars and shit - Wilbur still dresses relatively like, nicely and scholarly, which puts everyone off. He wears very loose sweaters with button-ups underneath. with khakis or black jeans and his docs - where his best friend, our Tommy, wears borderline yellow converse, and one bleached two-sizes-too-large jean jacket, and some second-hand-store hoodies, that are always a bit too worn in, but so, incredibly Tommy - Tommy who legit hasn't brushed his hair in years, not with a brush anyways - too frantic to brush his teeth most mornings. but always chewing gum; Tommy's always everywhere at once - ADHD meds only half-working on him, they couldn't afford the good shit - He'll never quite understand Dream handing out his adderall for free, Tommy would kill for the hard shit, but hey, he's never gonna stop his friends from having a good time

- Let's talk about Karl Jacobs - good ole' goody two shoes Jacobs - all of his teachers are constantly trying to get him to stop hanging out with Tommy and gang - every parent teacher conference is "we love your boy, but we are concerned about his friends" - Teachers have meetings with him, about how the people you surround yourself with can change your future - Karl's like, from the good side of town, plays first in the drumline, plays violin on the side, straight a's, clean-white-air-force-ones type of guy. Name brand clothes. Combed hair - Packed lunch every day from his mom; gets dropped off by his mom, kisses her goodbye; Mom is like very involved in school too - PTA parent - it's fucking good kid Jacobs - and he's sneaking off with fucking potheads to go to college parties and abandoned buildings - Does he do drugs? Well, he’s a big fan of treats if you know what I mean :wink wink: - ….you ever see Ted's video about a 500mg edible …. yeah. - big fan of gummy bears and brownies - Karl shows up to Parties and there are shouts of "Fuckin' goody-two-shoes Jacobs is HERE" - a lot of people make fun of him and think they can push him around - He seems like a softie; welcome mat type beat - but fucking watch this man chug 5 cups of whatever you give him, and then still win beer pong - Like his best friend is fucking quackity, he can do the hard shit - its very much a his parents have no clue who he actually is type beat - Look, his parents have no clue where he is ever - And if they even know he’s out, they don’t know where or with who - If his mom is at all involved in the school, she'll hear about Quackity, basically a drug dealer with how much hash weed he hands out on a daily basis. - Tommy has to be contained in order for the school to run smoothly, and Wilbur is a dramatic fuck that sleeps through most of his classes - Tommy has to take frequent breaks - They make him spend 3rd period in the principles office - Like he obviously needs help but he can’t afford it at all. Even the school can’t do anything for him bc he can’t get anything official for himself - like he can't even try to concentrate - He gave up so quickly in high school, bc they don’t have enough time or staff to help him - he tried in middle school - but man, did he give up in highschool - Yeah. He knows it is hopeless. Can't even afford college anyway. he'll just do whatever Wilbur does - here's an idea: Fucking Karl Jacobs showing up to school one morning just absolutely hammered out of his mind - Karl just showing up to first period AP Physics, and he's barely awake, honestly smells so much like weed and booze, and if he breathed anywhere near you, you could just feel the alcohol radiating from his breath - He's extra bubbly, laughs at everything - takes out his notebook to take some sort of notes, and just fucking giggles at the shapes and equations. He is very spacy, he clearly stayed up all night doing something very illegal; he gets up and jumps around. 2nd period band? oh boy - He gets sick at lunch bet - Like everyone got Drunk but Karl got FUCKED up - It was his birthday, bet - He took like 17 shots over the course of like 8 - 12ish hours, and I looked it up, despite karl being super scrawny and probably like 140 - 150ish pounds - which isn't a lot for being 5'11 - will not kill him - BECAUSE, you guessed it, he turned 17 - He didn't sleep, he was awake taking shots and just fucking who knows what until 6am when they stumbled to school - at lunch, 11:30 in the morning - he's head down on the table, miserable - he doesn't have a hangover yet, because it's only been a few hours, but man, is he nauseous - just the smell of food makes his stomach churn - and the thing about fucking Jacobs showing up drunk as hell - is that at least one of his teachers has called his mom about it - SHES PRESIDENT OF THE PTA FOR FUCKS SAKE, ONE OF THEM KNOWS HER - And the teachers aren't stupid, Karl is so obviously drunk - generally Karl is pretty quiet in class; but now he has no distinction between hanging with hs friends and being in class - he's shouting and cracking jokes and is very tempted to kick his chair over - Anyways, Karl fucks himself over, end of story  - ONTO PUNZ’S RELGIEOUS TRAUMA WOOOOOOOOOOOO - It's Punz - fuckin' golden boy Punz; he plays football; and goes to church; and calls his mother "momma"; wears a nice church outfit; and is polite to the bible study mothers that come over on tuesday nights and gets them drinks - just a fuckin' golden boy - A religious family. Go to church every Sunday. Sunday school. Holidays. But. The kid just realizes that they don’t believe in god. Them telling the group like they’re high and he’s like “you know? Some of the shit that’s happened to us proves to me that god rlly isn’t real.” - and Punz like prays every day for Tommy's dad to get his job back; or for Gogy to get better parents; or for Karl to live the life he wants; and NOTHING EVER WORKS. THEY'RE ALL STILL FUCKED. - by the way we will get the the Tommy's dad losing his job later - But Punz's life is controlled by something he doesn't even believe in anymore - because he's still going to the like church breakfasts, and christmas service, and every sunday morning, and helping his mom's ladies bible study, and his parents are talking about sending him to a youth bible camp - - and he doesn't even think he believes in god anymore. - Punz kind of took out his own personal, religious, and family struggles out the way most teenage boys do. Drinking, and lots of sex. - SO I just imagined this like, really dramatic moment, where its the morning after Punz had a one night stand at some sort of party down the street, and he's long past saving his virginity for his wife, but he's buying her the morning after pill, which his church is just so against, and he has like the moment of, "if you do this, you're done." and he does it - he's had a couple of those moments, like, when he first had sex, and when he first smoked weed, or popped a pill, or snuck out at night, or skipped church - but that was the moment of "there is no going back" - like any type of drug or procedure that aborts an embryo, or that blocks fertilization thats already in process in like: the biggest no no in his church community - so once he stepped out of that drug store, he kind of took a breath, and just came to terms with it - "I'm an atheist." - Punz is the pastors son. - he's like, pre-commited to a catholic college - he’s in deep. - so when he first announces it to his friends, one really late night, "I think god might not be my thing." - they just start whistling and say "FINALLY, THE PASTORS SON HAS TURNED AROUND." - Dream just like turns over to him "how many chicks did you fuck to make you realize that?" - Tommy just slings his arm over Punz, "I'm glad you've quit the Jesus shit, Punz. Your better than it." - There’s gotta be this girl ok. He rlly rlly wants to have sex with her but he always backs out. The thing that breaks him. Is that he gets drunk and loses his virginity to someone who is not that girl - like, he likes this girl, and has a good connection with her, and she likes him, and he knows that its gonna be comepletly consentual, and she's like fucking beautiful right? - and she's the one he wants to loose it to and he's a stupid fucking idiot and loses it to some fucking random ass chick that doesn't even go to their school - This triggers a spiral. After that? He slowly starts giving less of a fuck abt everything. He fucked up the one thing you can’t do over and god he’s so painfully aware of it and so painfully aware that he didn’t even fuck up right. - You’re supposed to wait till marriage. Nope. You’re supposed to do it with someone you love and trust. Double nope. He. Fucked. Up. - its just like he wanted to do something bad. he wanted to fuck something up. he was questioning his faith, his like, great and sturdy and always-there faith for the first time, and what better way to test faith than to do something shitty and see what comes of it. and so he was planning and planning and planning how he was gonna do this terrible thing - which is such a good kid thing to do, to put so much thought into your own rebellion - but he wanted this to go perfectly. - Little Pastors Son, Punz, wasn't gonna wait till marriage. - He was gonna have sex with the girl of his dreams before they were even dating - but man did he like her. Did he want her. - And then he fucked some random girl when he was black out drunk. He's fucked everything up - he can't wash this away with confession - he's tainted. He's dirty. - He looks in the mirror and doesn't recognize the heathen staring back. - He hates who he's become. - But he never goes back - he can't. He's dirty. He's wrong. - but the more he goes down the spiral - the more he realizes that one mistake shouldn't have made him feel like that - that if god was real, which he honestly wasn't sure in that department, he wouldn't want Punz to feel like the scum of the earth for doing something wrong. especially when he felt so bad after he did it. This system was fucked. He didn't want to be apart of another cycle - and he's just lying to himself every time he goes to church, and reads a cerse for his mom, and meets with younger kids at the church, and plays flag football with fucking church virgins who are good catholics and follow all their mommas orders - And every night when he says grace he means it less and less. he always does it when his momma asks, but boy does the lords word mean shit to him anymore From Ethan: - A turning point to the others in Punz's breakaway from Catholicism is like - He prays before he eats, usually. Sometimes they wait for him to finish his prayer before eating themselves, just out of politeness. He's a friend, he gets that shred of etiquette - And then one day he just doesn't. They got some fast food for a whole group dinner out at their hangout spot (a warehouse, did you say??) Tommy is staring at it intently but he waits for Punz to pray. Tubbo's already started eating but the rest wait - And Punz just starts eating - Dream nudges him, "No prayer, Pastor's boy?" - "No prayer," Punz mumbles into his food. "I'm trying something new." SO, TOMMYS DAD LOSING HIS JOB ARC W000000000 - it starts with Tommy showing up in a different jacket one day - like you have to understand, he's worn this jean jacket every single day for as long as WIlbur has known him, which is like 6 years - Like Tommy shows up in this giant, khaki work-jacket and it's his dads... - HIS DAD DIDNT DIE - his dad lost his job, which is essentially death to a family who already couldn't sustain themselves - and Tommy shows up to school, face pale and cheeks sunk in and there are visible bags under his eyes - and Wilbur just rushes over immediately and hugs him so tight to his chest - and Tommy just sobs, "pops lost his job -" gasp "I can't - we can't pay the bills this month. everything - its all falling apart Will." - "Hey - hey. Stop. It's gonna be fine. You're gonna be okay. You always are dude." - Tommy does have to get a job - and he probably does drop out of school unofficially, like he just stops going. - he sleeps during the morning classes, and heads into work at 10am - he's a carpenters assistant. it pays well as they need young, able men. but most of the younger citizens in the town go to school - he has to take the day shift because the day shift pays better - he doesn't mind it, he doesn't - it gives him the opportunity to get all of his energy out; but he misses going to school. as much as he hated it, he misses his friends. - and lets be honest, its hard as fuck for his dad to find a new job, he doesn't have a great resume - he didn't graduate from highschool. and he isn;t in top health condition, he definitely doesn't have health insurance - so Tommys stuck with this job for a long time - his dad uses his last paycheck to buy Tommy workboots so tommy feels in debt to him - He’ll get his GED eventually. - I think - The like religious status of the rest of the group brought to you by me - Everyone who I don’t mention is just a hard atheist - Karl and Wilbur are catholic, but to a lesser extent, Wilbur doesn't really go through with lent, and Karl only sometimes does. They go to a different church and go pretty much on holidays only, a sunday a month maybe. - SapNap goes to Punz's church, they've been friends for years. - He goes to sunday school but misses a lot of sermons because of his siblings sports games. - He is involved, but not to the way Punz is - SapNap's mother is in fact in Punz's moms bible group - Punz sometimes doesnt attend the bible group and Sap's mother is all "now you tell that pastor's boy to actually attend next time, got it?" and Sapnap dies a little on the inside - And George is an orthodox christian, but he's pretty much quit due to the blatant homophobia he's seen at his church. 

AND NOW ON WILBUR SOOT AND KARL JACOBS AND BARKING - Wilbur has siblings, fun fact - that we will never talk about or address - but definitely nothing like Wilbur, more the Karl Jacobs type - Wilbur is the oldest. he's always lectured about being 'a good influence on your brother and sister.' - They’re big sports kids. Softball and Basketball (tall genes). Straight Bs; Bed by 10pm; Have never missed school - Parents pride and joy :) - Just good suburban kids, Have friends next door, help the neighbors, attend the cul-de-sac barbecues. - Basically who Wilbur used to be up until highschool (until Wilbur met weed and a good group of stoners) - Sure he was a disappointment and he had no clue what to do with his life - But he was happier - Never really liked being the goody- two-shoes boy next door, he doesn't know how karl does it “Playing good boy like a dog” - Also he used dog terms around Karl - Because he’s “Playing good boy like a dog” - He’ll throw Karl a beer and smile “go fetch” - He laughs so hard when he sees Karl be good in a class or play it up for his parents; Because Wilbur’s so past trying - Wilbur will walk by and just bark at karl. Bet. Just Growls lowly; Walks in a  circle; Anything to make Karl’s parents (or Wilbur’s own) stare at him and scurry away - Karl’s parents push Karl forward and like hold their younger kids close to their chest, whispering “keep close, don’t look at him” - They tell Karl to stay away from kids like him. - And boy do Wilbur’s pa#rents hate it, They push him along and whisper yell at him As he throws his head back and cackles - I mean imagine, like a stereotypical middle class suburban family: House wife, blue collared father, Two kids; in sports jerseys, Girl in braids, boy in khakis - And then there’s Wilbur: Doc Martins, black jeans, collar and sweater, beanie. Definitely high on something - Chains LOTS OF CHAINS - And he's Barking. Fucking Barking At the nice family down the street - And then he takes out his vape right in front of his parents and silently offers Karl a hit with a smirk - Cause Karl’s too busy playing good boy - And as Karl’s family looks back, as Wilbur is corralled by his mom - He flips them off with the biggest smirk uou will ever see - Wilbur's kind of an ass - And Karl really wants a hit of that vape.

[onecanonlife]

the wind that remakes

It’s been ten years since the princes of the Antarctic Empire vanished. But the king’s still offering a hefty reward for their return, and Tommy thinks it’s about time he and Tubbo tried for it. No matter what they have to do.

It’s time to pull off the con of the century.

(fic masterlist w/ ao3 links)

(first chapter) (next chapter)

(chapter word count: 4,860)

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Chapter Two: just a feeling, and no one knows yet

It takes more than three weeks for them to discover that the Blade is a hybrid, which says something about their observational skills, probably. To be completely fair to all of them, though, the Blade almost never takes off that skull mask of his, even to eat, so Will thinks that perhaps they can be excused.

“You’re a hybrid!” Tommy shouts, pointing, and he winces.

Maybe not all of them.

The Blade, predictably, stiffens. Will finds himself tracing the lines of his exposed face with his eyes, noting the patterns of scars, the way his teeth poke out of his mouth like small tusks, the way his ears are pointed and pink and unmistakably pig-like. He’s been doing this often, catching himself staring when he has no reason to. He’s not sure why he’s so drawn to the Blade, but he’s decided not to worry about it too much.

Really, it just feels like a peculiar sort of familiarity.

“And?” the Blade asks, tone guarded. Luckily, Tommy shows an ounce of sense for once and picks up on it, shaking his head and holding his hands out in front of him.

“And nothing!” he says. “I was just surprised, is all. I thought Tubbo was the only one who was.”

The Blade lifts an eyebrow, looking to Tubbo. Will does the same; this is news to him, and he’s been with them for a couple of months longer than the Blade has. Tubbo shifts in place.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, and pulls off his beanie, and—oh. So that’s why he always wears it. There are horns poking out through his hair. Not too big, but definitely noticeable. And his ears, once hidden, are very clearly goat’s ears. “I’m a goat hybrid. It’s why I’ve got the hat, see? Though that won’t work forever. They’ll be much bigger by the time I’m an adult.”

“Huh,” the Blade says, and then appears to lose interest, going back to cleaning his sword. It’s fairly early in the morning, the sun having only just crested the horizon, but the Blade seems confident that there are no more mobs to be found in the area. Will is inclined to believe him. The past few weeks have proven that when it comes to fighting mobs, the Blade knows his stuff.

Will watches him for a few minutes, and then decides that the conversation is probably over.

It’s been nice, traveling with these people. Nice enough that he hasn’t even been stressing over what they’re going to try to do once they get to the Capitol. He can play his songs, and they like them, and Tommy will be loud and annoying but in a way that’s endearing, and Tubbo will be chaotic but in a way that’s more subtle, and the Blade will be grouchy and taciturn but in a way that seems to imply that for some reason, he likes all of them well enough. He could just leave if he didn’t, after all. There’s nothing stopping him, certainly not a promise of riches that isn’t likely to ever be fulfilled.

Because they’re absolutely going to be arrested. Will has no illusions about that.

He’s a good actor. He knows as much. He’s charming, and he’s used that to his advantage multiple times. And Tommy and Tubbo have grit, and street smarts, and he has no doubt that they’ve both pulled off many a successful con.

But that doesn’t mean they’ll be able to get one over the king. Doesn’t mean that he’s not going to take one look at Will and denounce him for a fraud and have them all put in jail for the rest of their lives. He’s been learning about the royal family whenever he can, on this trip, but he doesn’t know enough to successfully convince anyone that he remembers being a prince up until the age of fourteen.

He’s not sure why he’s going along with it in the first place. Not sure why he said yes when the boys approached him. Not sure why he’s not backing the fuck out and persuading them to do the same. To be fair, he’s always had a bit of an ambitious streak, though few enough opportunities to capitalize on it, has always wondered if there were something more he could be doing, but this goes a bit beyond the pale, beyond reasonable ambition and into reckless stupidity. He shouldn’t be involved with it.

He supposes that they’ve still got time. That it’s not too late until they’re standing in the throne room, or wherever the king receives people who are claiming to be his long lost son. He’ll work something out before then.

They hit the road, and as they walk, it occurs to him that he’s hopelessly attached to them all. That might have something to do with it. Possibly.

Well, he thinks, watching with a grin as Tommy tries, unsuccessfully, to tackle Tubbo to the ground after a sarcastic quip, there are probably worse people to get attached to, in the end.

-----

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Tubbo says, “what are we going to do if this doesn’t work out?”

Will looks to him. So does everyone else.

“This is going to work out,” Tommy states.

“Yeah, I know,” Tubbo says, with a child’s confidence. He believes it, believes that they’re going to manage it. That they’re going to pull off the scam of the century. Will wonders if he ever saw the world quite like that, if he was ever so—but no, naive isn’t the right way to put it. In some ways, Tubbo is as innocent as any teenager should be, but he isn’t naive. He just truly believes in their capabilities that much. Believes that they can do it.

He likes that a lot about him, actually.

“But what if it doesn’t?” Tubbo continues. “I think that maybe we should have a plan for that, too. Just in case.”

“Well, we don’t need one,” Tommy says, “because this is definitely going to work and all parties involved are definitely going to get paid.” He says this last with an incredibly non-subtle glance in the Blade’s direction, and the Blade rolls his eyes. “But if it didn’t—I dunno, I figured we’d have to break out of prison somehow.”

“I don’t want to go to prison,” Tubbo says. “Prison is for bad people. Who do things like, like tax fraud.”

“Ah, yes, tax fraud,” the Blade says dryly. “Truly, the epitome of evil.”

“It is,” Tubbo insists. “But anyway, could we make a plan that doesn’t involve us going to prison at all? I’d like to have a plan that doesn’t involve going to prison.”

Will smiles, absently strumming his guitar. There’s been a melody circling the outskirts of his mind lately, difficult to pin down. Something simple, but nice. Nostalgic, even if he has no idea what for. A past he can’t remember, maybe. A childhood he can’t be certain he ever had.

“We should make a country of our own,” he finds himself saying.

Everyone turns to him.

“We should what?” Tommy says.

He strums a few more chords, playing out the rhythm of his feet as he walks. One beat per footstep. Andante.

“We should make a country of our own,” he repeats, and what a fanciful idea it is. He’s not sure why he’s saying it at all, but the more he speaks, the more he likes it. “If I can’t take my rightful birthplace as Prince Wilbur of the Antarctic Empire” —At this, the Blade mutters something that sounds like, “Oh, Prime,” and Will can’t blame him, because it sounds truly ridiculous coming out of his mouth— “then we should simply go somewhere else and make a land for ourselves. A land of our own, where we can be free.”

“A country of our own,” Tubbo says. “I like it. Tommy?”

“Maybe,” Tommy says. “Needs a name, though.”

Will hums, wordless. The melody is taking shape, the contours rising and falling in his mind. He stops playing block chords, moving to plucking individual strings. A gentle melody, one that winds around back in on itself. Major back to minor, a crescendo and then a decrescendo. Soft, lilting, longing.

“Ooh, ooh, wait, I know,” Tommy says. “We can call it—” And he pauses, an odd look crossing over his face. “We call it Manberg. Because we’re all big men,” he continues, but the words are slow, ponderous.

“Oh, Prime,” the Blade repeats.

“What?” Tommy says, defensive. “It’s a good name! You can’t talk about names, your name is literally The Blade, I don’t know where you get off—”

“I never said that that was my full name,” the Blade says.

“Manberg,” Will says aloud, rolling it around on his tongue, tasting the syllables. It’s such a stupid name, but there’s something about it— “No, that’s too, that’s too pedestrian. We need something better. Something fancier.” He keeps strumming the tune, figuring out more and more of it as he goes. Something sweet, but a little sad, like a brush of memory just out of reach. “How about we add a ‘le’ sound? Like, L’Manberg.”

“L’Manberg,” Tommy repeats, and then cackles. “That’s fucking dumb. I love it.”

“You guys are goin’ to give me brain damage,” the Blade says plaintively.

“What, is L’Manberg not good enough for you?” he challenges, though he is sure to keep his voice light. And then, without warning, the rest of the song clicks into place, and words along with it, so he starts—“I heard there was a special place”—and the lyrics are a bit juvenile, perhaps even a bit stupid, but they feel right in a way that he can’t describe, and his fingers fly across the frets of his guitar as if he’s been practicing this song for years.

After a first time through the verse, Tommy starts humming along. And it feels good, feels right, still, so he keeps playing, even though after those first few lines, no more words come to him. But the melody sticks with him, even hours into their walking, when he’s become too tired to play anymore, and he can’t help but wonder what it would be like. It’s another ridiculous dream, of course, founding a nation of their own, but he can’t help but feel like if he were to do something like that, there’s no one else he would rather do it with.

That’s new. And interesting. He’s never cared about people as much as he cares about these people, he thinks. Perhaps that should worry him. No, it definitely should worry him, especially since it means he’s letting them lead him into prison, practically by the hand. But it feels right, somehow, almost in the same way that his little tune feels right.

He pictures it: a city, shining and prosperous. Tommy at his elbow, his right hand man, and Tubbo by Tommy’s side. Technoblade standing with them, his mask off, lips curled in a slight smile, one that means that Techno—that Techno—Techno, who the fuck is Techno—?

The Blade. He means the Blade.

He frowns. Shakes his head, the beginnings of a headache pulsing behind his forehead. The details of what he was imagining slip away, water past splayed fingers, and he lets it go.

“You alright?” Tubbo asks, and he nods.

“Just fine,” he says, and decides that he has enough energy to keep playing after all.

-----

“Here.”

He jumps, startled. For such a large man, the Blade moves steps lightly on his feet. He didn’t notice he was there, though perhaps some of that can be attributed to the noise of the village around him. It seems they’re passing through just in time for festival season, the streets decorated with brightly colored flags, vendors lining the path, haggling over their wares. The laughter of children is high on the air, and something about it strikes a chord of nostalgia within him. Something dancing just beyond his memory, perhaps, just out of his grasp.

It doesn’t bother him, his missing childhood. Most of the time, at least. Sometimes, though, he wishes he could fill in the void that makes up his early years. Nights like tonight make him quietly certain that there is something worth remembering.

“What?” he asks. The Blade is holding a package out toward him, wrapped in brown paper, but the strange thing is that he’s shifting back and forth on his feet, like he’s apprehensive about it. Will’s never seen the Blade apprehensive before. Awkward, sure, but not apprehensive.

“Are you gonna take it, or—?” The Blade trails off, and he is quick to accept the package from him. It’s very light, and he casts glances at the Blade as he unwraps it, his curiosity growing with each second.

“What’s this for?” he asks. “It’s not my birthday, you know. I think. Probably.”

“I know,” the Blade says. “I just thought—” He trails off again, shrugging, and Will turns his attention to the package, stripping the rest of the paper away to reveal—fabric. Small swatches of it in various colors, black and blue and red and yellow and white. There’s a couple of spools of thread in here as well, and a couple of sewing needles.

Not at all what he expected.

He is capable of sewing, of course. New clothes could be difficult to afford, living the way he was before meeting Tommy and Tubbo, and he’ll admit to a certain affection toward his coat, a preference to repair it, to patch it up as best he can rather than try to find a replacement. There’s no way that the Blade could have known this, though, so he’s at a bit of a loss as to what it’s for. He looks back up, furrowing his brow.

“For your country,” the Blade says, by way of explanation. “Your L’Manberg. Thought you might like to make a flag. Couldn’t get the colors exactly right, but I tried my best.”

“Oh, well, I didn’t actually have any colors in mind yet,” he says. “Didn’t really have anything in mind yet.”

Despite that, he’s oddly touched. The country thing was a passing notion, really, not one that he ever expects to be realized, and he was so sure that the Blade was exasperated with the line of conversation. And yet, here he is, showing his tacit support for the idea, or at least, encouraging the flight of fancy. He never would have thought it, and yet, here he is, gifted fabrics in his hand, the Blade fidgeting in front of him, and a surge of affection swells in his chest.

“Thank you, though, really,” he says. “This might be a fun little project. Do you suppose Tommy and Tubbo know how to sew?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” the Blade says. “Where did they get off to, anyway?”

He eyes the square, all of the people bustling to and fro, happy, excited, enjoying the festivities. He could probably make a fair bit of coin here if he set up shop, started playing. And yet, something in him resists the notion, tells him that if just for tonight, he should take a rest. Spend it with the people he’s become so inexorably fond of.

“Probably picking someone’s pockets somewhere,” he says. “I’m sure they’re just fine.”

“They’re pretty resourceful kids,” the Blade agrees. “Though I feel better when they’re in my sight.”

“Aw, are you worried about them?” he asks, playing up the teasing lilt in his voice. From underneath his mask, the Blade shoots him an unimpressed stare.

“I’m your bodyguard, aren’t I?” he says. “Can’t exactly protect you when I can’t see you.”

He laughs. “True, true.” He pauses, considering. Above them, the sky darkens, fading to a deep purple, and stars begin to twinkle. The lanterns dotting the streets shine with more prominence, casting the village in a hazy orange glow. A deep contentment settles in his chest. “So, what’s your story, Mister The Blade? How does someone like you end up in a place like where we found you? You don’t strike me as the kind of man that likes to be contained, and yet you seemed perfectly fine with staying there, at first.”

He’s glad that they were able to persuade him, in the end. He still doesn’t know why seeing the Blade there, sitting in that cage, struck him the way that it did, tugged at his heartstrings and all but froze him in place. But he’s certain that his instincts are correct, that the Blade does not belong cooped up like some sort of animal, that he is worth far more than a captive fighter, worth more than some sick kind of entertainment. So he was glad, then, when the Blade acquiesced to come with them, and he is doubly glad of it now.

“If I tell you, I’m not sure you’ll like what you hear,” the Blade says, at length.

He raises his hands. “You don’t have to tell me, but I’m sure that’s not true.”

The Blade sighs. Even here, in the midst of a celebrating village, where there is sure to be little to no threat to anyone’s safety, the man can’t seem to relax. If anything, he’s even more on edge.

“I was set a task, and I failed it,” he says, voice low. “I was told to protect a couple of people, and I couldn’t do it. I failed them, and they died. Or—I assumed they did. I was captured by—you know the type of people who don’t see hybrids as human? Who hunt ‘em down just to kill ‘em, or to see how much money they can make off of ‘em?”

Will nods, heart in his throat.

“Well, I got caught by a group of them. They figured out pretty quick that I could fight, so they sold me off to a ring. Been in pits and arenas like that ever since.” The Blade shrugs, scanning the crowd rather than looking at him. “Never seemed worth it to try and escape. Not when I knew that there was nothin’ left for me out in the world. I guess—if I’m bein’ honest, this is kind of a second chance for me.”

The instinct rises to tease the Blade for his admission, for the fact that he cares about this, about them. But this is not the time for it, not when it turns out that he’s been poking at what is so obviously a still-open wound.

“I’m sorry that happened,” he says softly. “How long ago was this, if you don’t mind my asking?”

The Blade shrugs again. “About ten years, give or take,” he says, and Will starts.

“Ten—” He cuts off, and has to start again. “Ten years? But you can’t possibly be any older than I am. You would’ve been a child!”

“Bein’ a child doesn’t mean that bad things can’t happen to you,” the Blade says, quiet and grim. “And it doesn’t mean that I failed any less.”

There is a whole host of things that Will wants to say to that, starting with making sure that the Blade knows that however badly he thinks he failed, he certainly didn’t deserve what followed, especially not as a child. There’s no way that the Blade is older than he is, which would put him at—well. He’s not entirely certain of his own age, but he’s fairly certain he’s no older than twenty-five, so that would put the Blade back then at fourteen or fifteen at the very oldest. Quite possibly younger. And he can’t imagine what it would have been like to experience such horrible things at such a young age, and not only because he can’t remember his own childhood.

He would also like to say that he’s pretty sure that the Blade is taking too much responsibility onto his shoulders. That there’s no way he should have been expected to have to take care of other people in such a way, not at such a young age. But he’s also pretty sure that the Blade would not appreciate him saying so, judging by the tense set of his shoulders.

So he hums a bit, and tries to talk around it.

“Well, I certainly don’t think any less of you,” he states. “And I’m sure that—I’m sure that the people from then wouldn’t either. I’m certain you tried your best, and anyone who wouldn’t take that into account isn’t worth so much sorrow.”

The Blade snorts. “I think we’re gonna have to agree to disagree on that one,” he says, and then pauses. “But—thank you, Wilbur, that literally means more to me than you know.”

“Of course,” he says, and stops, something nagging at him. “What did you call me?”

“I—called you Will. Definitely. For sure. Because that’s your name.”

“Right,” he says, feeling faintly—disappointed? He’s not sure where that’s coming from. “Right, of course it is. Are you—”

“Will!” Tommy says, suddenly appearing at his right side. “Will, you will not believe what me and Tubbo found, you’ve got to come see this, Will, it is literally so fucking cool, so very pogchamp, come and see—”

He laughs, shooting a what can you do kind of look at the Blade, who rolls his eyes good-naturedly. And he allows Tommy to drag him off, the Blade following close behind the both of them. As it turns out, Tommy and Tubbo have found a row of carnival games, and though they probably don’t truly have the money to spare, he doesn’t have the heart to tell them no. So they play a few games, and Tubbo wins a duck plushie, and they manage to talk the Blade into bobbing for apples, which he does with all of the equanimity and determination that such a task deserves. He wins, of course; Will isn’t sure that the Blade knows how to lose—when it comes to competitions, at least. His story still lingers in the back of his mind, and he can’t help but watch him every now and again, wondering how a man who’s clearly been through so much has managed not to be broken by his experiences.

He’s very glad, though, that he hasn’t been. And it’s selfish of him, probably, but he’s also glad that the Blade was put in a position that led to their meeting. He rather likes having him around.

But these are all deep thoughts. Deeper, perhaps, than he feels like ruminating on tonight, with a cool breeze blowing and the stars shining bright above them and glee painted on the kids’ faces as they let themselves be kids for a while. So he allows himself to have fun too, and eventually brings out his guitar to play for a while. Not for money, not for attention, but for the simple joy of it, for the music on his tongue and at his fingertips, and the way that Tommy and Tubbo light up when he plays, and the way that the Blade pretends not to pay attention but nods along in time with the beat and the thread of the song.

As the time draws closer to midnight, he glances up, and sees a shooting star streaking across the sky. And he wishes to keep this, just this, for as long as he is able.

-----

He does end up making flags. Four little ones, such that they can each have one of their own, tucked into their pockets or in their bags or pinned to their coat or wherever they’d like to keep them. Tommy takes to the project with surprising enthusiasm, and it’s not long until they’re all finished. He rather likes the final design, if he does say so himself: black outlined with yellow, blue and white stripes, and three red x’s. He’s not sure why he did it the way he did, but he’s more than satisfied with the outcome. Just like the improvised national anthem, it feels right in a way he can’t explain.

“You really are killin’ me here,” the Blade says upon receiving his flag, and he laughs.

“You’re the one who gave me the fabric in the first place,” he says. “I thought you wanted me to make a flag.”

The Blade just shakes his head, and Will chalks it up as another one of the man’s oddities. But later, he spots the flag peeking out of the Blade’s pocket, so he’s pretty sure that means he wins.

-----

“Is this what a family’s supposed to be like?” Tubbo asks one night. They’re camping outside, the evening fading into dusk, and they’ve got a fire going, leaping and crackling merrily. No one’s asleep yet, though it’s been yet another long day of walking. The Blade has his back turned to the rest of them, already scanning the horizon for mobs coming out of hiding.

“What the fuck are you on about?” Tommy says.

“No, it’s just, I mean, think about it,” Tubbo answers, idly drawing shapes in the dirt with a stick. He has his duck plushie tucked under one arm. “None of us really have one, I guess. Not like the whole mother and father and kids and a dog or whatever that a lot of families are. But that’s not what families have to be, I’m pretty sure. And I know we haven’t all known each other for that long, but I was just thinking that maybe we’re all sort of a family too, you know?”

His chest feels warm and tingly. He bites his lip to keep from smiling.

“That’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard,” Tommy states flatly. “Of course we’re a family. You and me” —He gestures between himself and Tubbo— “are brothers, we are. Brothers by choice and by spit—”

“Oh yeah, we did shake hands on it that one time. That was pretty gross—”

“—and I guess,” Tommy continues, louder, “that maybe the other two can be too, if they really want, and if they ask us very nicely.”

“I feel like Will’s the middle child,” Tubbo says, “and the Blade’s the long-suffering oldest brother who has to put up with all of the rest of us. Hey, Blade, by the way, do we ever get to learn your real name?”

“I am literally not the oldest one here,” the Blade says without turning to look at them, completely avoiding the question. Will lets him, because he’s got his own two emeralds to put in.

“Why am I the middle child?” he demands.

“Vibes,” Tubbo says. “I’m sorry, Will, you’re too chaotic to be the eldest.”

He tilts his head, considering that. He doesn’t consider himself to be particularly chaotic. He’s here to provide the tunes, as well as the distractions so that Tommy and Tubbo can pick people’s pockets, as well as the pretended presence of a responsible adult so that no one looks twice at them as they commit multiple crimes. Then, of course, there’s the fact that he came with them on the first place on a whim, after they explained to him, a perfect stranger, that they wanted to scam the king out of a shit ton of money. And his response to this was to think, sure, sounds like a good time, and agree.

“I’ll concede the point,” he says.

“I’ll concede the point,” Tommy mimics. “You sound like such a wanker.”

“Well, that’s what I’m supposed to be, isn’t it?” he says. “A prince? Big, posh wanker?”

“Oh gods, just shut up,” Tommy says, but he’s laughing, and Will is smiling, smiling because he can’t help it, because he likes this idea too much for his own good, the idea of calling these people his brothers. He wants to keep them in his life, and that’s startling, to him, because he’s never been one to form attachments this quickly. His is the life of a wanderer, never staying in the same places or with the same people for too long. This is new, and strange, and it should frighten him, but it doesn’t.

Chances are, everything will go downhill very quickly. Chances are, they won’t get anywhere near the king, and if they do, he’ll figure them out immediately.

But maybe he won’t. Maybe Will will be able to pretend for long enough to get the money. Get the money, and then get out of there, go somewhere far, far away with their ill-gotten gains, start a new life for themselves. Find a place to call home, the four of them. Sticking together.

Hope’s a dangerous thing. But Tommy, Tubbo? They make him want to believe.

He pulls his L’Manberg flag from his pocket, running his fingers along the fabric, the rough stitches. “We’re homeward bound, boys,” he murmurs, just to himself, but just like everything else, it feels right. And maybe, just maybe, they can pull this off after all.

The next morning, they arrive at the Capitol.