Chapter 1: Happy as a Clam (at High Tide)
Summary:
Schlatt says no to drugs
Tubbo, Tommy and Purpled use their manipulation skills for good
Phil could use some Prozac
Wilbur, Technoblade and Niki (and Jack) bake gay cupcakes
Eret says yes to drugs
Punz adds to his résumé
Ranboo becomes an illegal immigrant
Notes:
CW: Flashbacks, references to kidnappings, abusive parental behaviours and child abandonment
Talks of past substance abuse
References to mafias and drug distributions
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
17:58 Monday June 20th, 2020
1st District, L’Manberg, 107 Brich Ave
Schlatt Family Mansion “Victory House”
“It would be good, y’know? For us, I mean.”
“It’s for our de-vel-lop-ment, innit?”
“Right, that.”
“And it would be super cool.”
“That too.”
If Schlatt closed his eyes and ignored them, maybe the three little heathens would leave him alone? Yeah, that seemed like a good plan, totally plausible.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. Schlatt peaked out, but to his unfortunate circumstances, his wonderful, beautiful, precious sons were still crowded in front of his desk.
Damnit.
Schlatt mistakenly made eye contact with the holy terrors, and it took almost all of his willpower to suppress a shiver. He could just tell they meant business and that never ended well for him.
That gleam in their eyes, the one that only knew of innocence as a foreign concept, looked well suited to Schlatt’s Victorian era office. Velvety blackout curtains, scented candles and wine-coloured walls, y'know, evil Disney villain lair kinda deal.
The room was always comforting to him though, vanilla candles and a magnificent painting of the old ship his parents drowned upon. Oh so relaxing.
It was the room he preformed all of his shadier business in, either over the phone or video call. It was imposing and perfect for any deals done in the dark and was forunatually also the only place where his sons felt confident enough to make a "shady" deal of their own.
Purpled, ever the leader with middle child energy, was standing slightly in front of his brothers and facing Schlatt head-on, his posture straight and his violet antennae pointed right at him. Purpled’s inner eyelids blinked, the nictitating membrane transparent enough to show the teen never breaking eye contact with Schlatt, but he otherwise did nothing, not even breath, the creepy bastard.
Tommy, his youngest and tallest, had his hands on Purpled’s shoulders, like he needed to look over him when Tommy could have just stepped to the side. His dark red wings were puffed up and he was not so subtly gnawing on his lip like a hungry boar.
Tubbo, his oldest and shortest, had purposely styled his bangs to cover his eyes that morning, but Schlatt could make a comfortable bet that his eldest wasn’t blinking.
Tubbo’s hooves clicked on the wooden floor as he shifted out a bit from behind Purpled, his small horns shining with- Aww, he was wearing the horn rings Schlatt had gotten him for New Years! They looked so nice on him too! Oh his son was so cute!- Wait, no, fuck this was Tubbo, he only wore jewellery when he felt especially powerful and/or wanted something. Damnit it worked on Schlatt everytime, too!
Schlatt made a conscious effort not to touch the matching rings adorning his own twisting horns in that moment, struggling to not look at the golden sparkles intermixed with curly brown hair.
Man oh man, what other quaint and adorable little manipulations did these three headaches think up this time? Schlatt crossed his hands on his desk and put on his own 'business' face as he studied each of his children. Purpled had on a lavender hoodie and a pair of ear cuffs he’d gotten for his birthday. He was also being a creepy shit and his face was getting a little blue as Purpled had the insidious philosophy that when he was nervous, he should be a tad more eldritch then normal.
Tommy wore a light pink hoodie and he had on some of the rings and bracelets and whatnot that Schlatt had gotten him throughout the years, but that wasn’t much of a surprise as Tommy liked any and all things shiny and was rarely seen without gold on him. His feathers, while puffed, were straightened and a little softer looking then they were yesterday. His blown-out pupils, overall silence and need to touch one of his flock mates made Schlatt worry that he’d have to have a talk about instinct coercion again.
On another note, it looked like one of the boys had tried to comb Tommy’s hair. A fruitless endeavour but, hey, they tried.
Tubbo, the self proclaimed smartest of the three, was hiding his hands behind the back of his mint hoodie. He’d hooked some chains through the loops of his jeans that clinked as he tried to stand keep still and Schlatt knew that he’d only worn those so he could fidget with them. His son, the only one the public knew about at least, who was the goat-spitting of Schlatt at that age but was a hundred times more devious, who was funny and smart and who was threatened on the docks just last night. Schlatt knew that Tubbo was being kind with this offer they’d given. That if Schlatt responded unfavourably and without reason then Tubbo would go through with his plans anyways. He was a stubborn child who wasn’t used to not getting his way and Schlatt was the fool that had spoiled him all his life.
Though no matter how persuasive and conniving Tubbo was, Purpled would never just give in to his whims. No, Purpled would plan and research and organize the shit out of whatever Tubbo suggested and target any discrepancies or flaws until there were none.
Tommy would follow his older brothers anywhere, if he as a frog in a boiling pot of water, he would stay there until Purpled and Tubbo jumped out first but, at the same time, Purpled and Tubbo would never let it get to that point. If they even had an inkling that Tommy was upset, then they would abandon ship and go running back to Schlatt.
That’s something Schlatt needed to remind himself of often, because he never had a support system like that in place growing up. Schlatt’s sons trusted him. And now they were asking him for help on another one of their inane plans that was most likely going to end up hurting him.
“Just let me get this straight.” Schlatt tried to blink away that dreadful feeling of being able to hear his heartbeat in his skull.
“You want,” Schlatt took a deep breath and held it for a few too many seconds just north of concerning, “…to move out?” Maybe he had heard wrong? Maybe they wanted ‘more clout’? or maybe they ‘approve of trout’?
“Yes”
Primedamnit.
Schlatt blinked, Purpled blinked one eye before the other and tried desperately to not take a breath.
“Speak more words.”
Tommy let out a small cheer and Tubbo grinned and launched into a fully planned out speech while Purpled finally chose the correct choice of not suffocating.
Schlatt felt the beginnings of a migraine coming on and ohhhhhhh, he’s not going to like this conversation, is he?
“-and you know how like, that bitch threatened me last night at your meet-” Tubbo was ranting but, ouch, what a fucking punch to the gut that reminder was.
‘Your son, Tobias, right? I would hate for him to get hurt just because you won’t even consider my very generous offer.’
‘You can shove your damn offer up your ass and leave my son’s name out of your yeast infected mouth before I cut off your head and wave it like a fucking victory flag.”
Schlatt made him regret even thinking about his sons but still, the audacity of that green bastard was plain and clear. He’d be bringing that particular incident to the Tribunal.
“-no one would know where we were, they’d assume we’re still living with you-”
“And who’s paying for your appartement, exactly?” Schlatt drawled after a few minutes of listening, even though everyone in the vampire-core wannabe room knew it was a bluff. The desk Tubbo was currently crouched on top of was agarwood with engraved netherite and studded prismarine crystals for crying out loud, Schlatt could and would easily pay for a new beach mansion in 1st district and not break a sweat, let alone some apartment. The tall yet still very small avian hybrid, who at some point during Tubbo’s speech had climbed onto Schlatt’s lap and pressed his wings into his hands until he was being pet, twisted up in confusion when Schlatt looked down into his bright blue eyes.
“… we were hoping you would until we could hold ourselves up?” Tommy asked slowly. He wasn’t afraid of Schlatt, none of them were, but when asking for money there should always be a level of hesitancy. No matter the financial situations of the other, monetary favours are never guaranteed.
“You’re going to get jobs?”
His boys? Really? Manuel labour?
“Customer service or janitorial. Entry level shit” Purpled voice came like a dark omen from above, he was standing on the back of Schlatt’s leather spiny chair, socked feet digging into Schlatt’s hips. His soft lilac tail was waving back and forth likely trying to spin the chair around.
Customer service or janitorial? Shlatt would pay to see that, like actually go and buy some popcorn and watch them suffer as entertainment. And might just too, if they get their way.
However:
• Purpled was agreeing with Tubbo, they probably had a couple places picked out already.
• They could use the experience. Give them a taste of life outside that of a rich brat.
Schlatt knew that his sons were spoiled and lacking basic people skills, and he recognized that as his own fault. Purpled and Tommy justifiably took many years before they could even talk to anyone besides Shlatt and Tubbo, the trauma from before their unethical adoption always there. Schlatt had refused to put them through anymore emotional torture and purposefully didn’t enroll them into Tubbo’s snobbish private school. Especially when Tubbo himself confessed that he was being isolated at school because of parental pressure. Like, really? Little Marieanne-Lynn isn’t allowed to talk to the drug dealer’s dirty goat son or else she risk losing her college fund? Those parents needed to get off their high horses and remind themselves that they paid Schlatt a hefty sum every month for their own such drug uses. Due to this choice, his boys currently have no friends except for each other and their cousins. Something Schlatt has desperately tried to change, yet failed miserably every time.
• If they run into any issues, they’ll go back to Schlatt.
Schlatt’s family isn’t normal, if they want to go and stay in SMP Earth’s Bahamas for a year, then they have the means to do that where most people don’t. If his sons want to vacation in an apartment and get working class jobs and meet the regular people of Manberg, they can do that. If his sons discover on their adventure the wrath of Karens, or finally see the homeless camps lining the sidewalks of the lower district’s downtown squares? Good. As much as Schlatt loved that his sons saw the world as rainbows and butterflies, it wasn’t realistic. And this seemed a perfect opportunity for them to understand how privileged they are.
• If he doesn’t agree, Tubbo will leave when he’s 18 and his brothers will sneak out every night to join him anyways.
Schlatt, being the eldest and heir of his family, got away with everything and had to teach himself the virtues of control and restraint. He learned too late that that wasn’t the right way to raise a child, and is currently failing as a father because of his indecisiveness. If Schlatt woke up one morning and found that his sons had trashed their rooms, what would he do? Give them an earlier bedtime?
• Schlatt would be alone.
That would be happening all the same when they were older anyways. If they wanted to leave, then Schlatt had to let them, no matter how much pain it brought himself. Schlatt would be the first to call himself selfish, but never with something as important as the emotional growth of his sons. This was a golden opportunity for them and with the pros and cons weighed, how could he refuse?
Fuck, Schlatt sighed and reminded himself to drink more water, just so he stopped getting these migraines.
“You’ll be staying in Manberg.”
“YES!” all three boys cheered and immediately started talking Schlatt’s furry ears off about what coloured wallpaper they’d be putting up and how much fun it’ll be and how they have some locations but wanted his opinion first due to the prices listed…
“How much is rent?!”
“This one is one of the cheaper ones in 6th, with 2,500£ a month and a 4,000£ deposit.” Tubbo unhelpfully provided the information.
Schlatt spluttered, because what in the 9 rings?
“Minimum wage is fuckin-, 16 something isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it’s …16.45£ as of last year.” Tommy checked on his phone.
“So, wait.” Schlatt pulled out his trusty calculator, like a nerd, “If you work minimum wage at, say, a grocery store or some shit, for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, for 2 weeks, you’ll have only 1,316£?”
“A month is around 4 weeks though.” Purpled cut in.
“Right,” Schlatt pointed at Purpled in acknowledgement, “so for 4 weeks you’ll have 2,632£. That’s not an issue for you boys since you’ll all be getting jobs and I’ll help keep you afloat, but for an average person living alone, that’s barely enough for rent and groceries, let alone if an emergency happens? How are we expecting to fix the homeless population if no one can fucking afford to live here?”
“They could get a roommate?” Tommy suggested, but Schlatt knew that he was troubled by the math. No sane person enjoyed math, especially when the numbers highlighted you as poor.
“It’s not always that easy, who knows if you’ll like the person you invite into your home? Or if they won’t just rob you blind?” Purpled added in, following what Schlatt was thinking.
“That’s also if you get the chance to work 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. I’m not sure if that’s so easy since a lot of customer service places, like Monika’s, aren’t always open every day.” Tubbo put in, thinking of that one high end café they all like to visit and not the 24/7 convenience stores or fast-food places in the lower districts. Still, it’s a decent point and Schlatt hummed in agreement.
It was still an ugly reality though, and Schlatt made another mental note to speak up about this at the next parliamentary council meeting.
Also, how much of their income will be lost to taxes? As an AdultTM that seemed like something he really should know. Just because he pays someone to fuck with his taxes doesn’t excuse his naivety.
And oh, dear, he dampened the mood. It felt colder and everything, prime. His boys were so happy and excited and now Schlatt’s talking politics? Not the time nor the place.
“Anyways!” Schlatt forced a 1000-watt smile, grateful that he could see his sons livening back up already. “It’s almost time for dinner. What say you we watch a Ghibli movie? Then tomorrow I’ll help you make some résumés?” Schlatt stood up, not at all surprised when Tommy interlocked his boney arms around his neck and dangled a few feet off the ground, his wings a fluffy red blur as he adjusted. Purpled, never wanting to be outdone, jumped from the now Schlatt-less spiny chair to hang onto Schlatt in much the same way, but off the poor ram hybrid’s back.
“Ah, oh no oh dear, Tubbo? Mind passing me my phone? I need to call the doctor! I think those damn growths are back!” 3 sets of giggling teenagers met his floppy ears.
“Well, hrng, at least there’s only 2 growths. Usually there’s 3 but, heh, small mercies.” With that challenge, and some careful side stepping closer to the desk, Tubbo launched himself from the smooth wood to catch Schlatt’s abused neck, the smaller ram hybrid hanging on over his shoulder.
“Noooo! All three of them are back!” Endless rounds of laughter and ‘growth noises’ followed.
~~~
18:14 Monday June 20th, 2020
1st District, L’Manberg, 2445 Suncrest Rd
Craft Family Mansion “Morning-Glory House”
- 2 cups White Sugar (any kind of sweetener)
- 2 1/3 cups All Purpose Flour (your favourite flour)
- 1 tablespoon Baking Powder (don’t skip this step)
- ¾ teaspoon Salt (the white stuff beside the pepper)
- 1 ½ cups Milk (any kind of milk)
- 2 Eggs (or ½ cup of applesauce and an extra ½ teaspoon of baking powder)
- ½ cup Vegetable Oil (olive oil is healthier)
- 2 teaspoons Vanilla Extract (optional and interchangeable)
Preheat oven to 165’C
“Wilbur! You need to crack the eggs! You can’t just put them in like that!”
“No nono trust me, whole eggs are in these days. A new trend, one might say. I saw it on TikTok. Niki, back me up!”
“Jack, there’s nothing wrong with having a bit extra calcium in our diets-”
“Niki!”
Phil grinned as he watched Technoblade become enraptured with the bowl of dry ingredients. Red eyes laser focused as he shifted the flour through his fingers like a toddler discovering sand.
Also not unlike a toddler, Technoblade was covered in it.
Phil sighed and wished he could have seen more of his sons when they were younger.
‘Boys? Dadza’s home! Where are you?’
Phil held back a flinch at the intruding memory, turning to silently taking out the spare trays from the oven and turning it on. His movements were smooth, his wings were still, his hands were not shaking, damnit they weren’t.
‘Where are my SONS?! Bring thEM BACK NIKI WHERE ARE THEY?!’
‘They’re safe, Phil.’
‘NIKI!’
In and out, just in and out.
“Phil?” Phil had to fight tooth and nail to not turn and snarl at his pseudo daughter, her yellow apron stained to the 9 rings and back from memories they could have shared. Wilbur was behind her, having somehow gotten the dry bowl from Technoblade and adding gratuitous amounts of sprinkles to it. Jack was cracking the oil covered eggs while he had the chance, but turned to stare at Phil, his gaze a fiery glow that steadily burned Phil from the inside out the longer he took to answer.
In and out.
“Yes? Niki?”
Niki gave a small smile, her fangs just shying into the bland fluorescent lighting, hands crossed in front to look less intimidating.
“Do you have any more cupcake liners? I can’t find them.”
Not a hint of malice in her voice, just a question. Her pink hair had more than a few flyaways from where she’d done it up, her hands were shiny from measuring the olive oil, her stance calm, not primed for an attack. She looked gentle, but Phil knew the truth.
He wouldn’t fall for that again.
Never again.
“ ’Course mate, here, they should be in the cupboard above the flour.” Now, Phil wasn’t exactly the tallest of their group, but he was taller than Niki, and since manners still existed, he only struggled a little bit reaching for the bin of cheerful wax paper.
Together, the two of them set to lining the tins, avoiding the holiday themed papers and grimacing whenever there was a too loud crash.
“… why are there sprinkles in this?”
“It’s confetti!”
“It’s pride month.”
“…okay”
Phil could practically hear his twins exchanging looks. Piglin hybrids his ass, Kristin must have lied to him, those boys were sons of Death demons.
“Wooooooow Jack, you don’t need to be so homophobic.”
“What?-”
“That lack of enthusiasm is telling.”
“During Pride Month? Really?”
“NO!”
“For shame, Jack, shaaaaaame!”
“Jack Manifold, more like Jack StepOnYourRights!”
“Oh my fucking Prime!”
Phil could just imagine the dark puffs coming out of the blaze hybrid’s nose and wondered if the smoke alarm would go off yet again. He glanced at Niki as she tried to hide her snickering behind her hand. Their eyes met and Phil found himself inadvertently giving her a small grin.
“Is that why we didn’t see you at the parade?”
“Yeah, something you’d like to say Mr. Hetero is Bettero?”
“I was marching right beside you!”
“A likely story!”
Phil finished his tray and turned to watch the chaos unfold. Wilbur had wrestled the bowl from Jack, and Technoblade rested against the island, holding an egg up in front of his face as he looked between his brother, his friend and it.
Niki turned and leaned into Phil’s side, no hesitation, no retreat, not even when Phil wrapped one of his large black wings behind her shoulders in the same way avians would hold their children. She just smiled up at him with her calculating brown eyes and went back to watching the boys have fun.
Phil felt her breathing, the slow inhale and exhale and wondered when exactly she became such a good actor, or if she was already born with those skills?
It’d been years since she betrayed him, years of unwanted therapy and discussions and explanations and visits much like this. And Phil liked to think they’d moved on, grown, but deep down in his heart Phil still held a lot of resentment.
Phil loved Niki, he’s named her as heir and thought of her as his daughter and couldn’t picture his life without her in it, but that doesn’t change the past. Doesn’t change the fact that she hurt him in the most unimaginable way possible, that no matter how much Phil cares for her, he will never forgive her.
Healing takes time, and it’s been almost 10 years but damnit Phil doesn’t want to heal, he wants his family back.
Ding!
“Oven’s ready!”
~~~
18:42 Monday June 20th, 2020
1st District, L’Manberg, 100 Prism Rd
Royal Palace “Pride Palace”, ” The Palace”, “Castle on the Hill”, “Big Bricks”
Eret pushed around the mouth-watering vegetables on their plate. Something fancy the cooks had spent hours on, green beans with tomatoes and cheese, spicey potatoes, some kinda steak that they could honestly give less of a shit about.
There was a buzzing static from the radio in the much too opulent dinning hall, Eret sitting at the head of a table that could easily fit 50 people. Seats that adamantly refused to be filled.
“-est in front of the parliament buildings today, a good 500 people showed up with signs, protesting what looks to be the rising homeless population. Let’s hear from some of the participants.”
There were 10 royal soldiers posted throughout the room, a couple waiters, a butler. It would be so easy if they sat down with Eret. They wouldn’t even have to eat if they didn’t want to! Just some light conversation, that’s all Eret wanted. Just some company.
“The crown shouldn’t have let it get this far!”
“It’s all those damn alien’s faults!”
“These people don’t have homes!”
“We want cheaper groceries!”
“Believe in the graciousness of our Lord XD, and we will find our promised land!”
“We don’t want people like them in our neighbourhoods! Think of the children!”
Ohhhh Eret is looking forward to their bed tonight. Nice, soft cushions and 10mg of melatonin. Ah yes, Eret will be going gently into that good sleep. No insomnia allowed for this reigning monarch.
~~~
21:06 Monday June 20th, 2020
1st District, L’Manberg, 107 Birch Ave
Schlatt Family Mansion “Victory House”
The movie credits rolled, gentle piano music filtered out through the speakers accompanying the quiet snores of 3 content little fiends.
Tubbo was cuddled up on Schlatt’s left side, blanket bunched around his face and soft breaths blowing his hair around without a care in the world.
Schlatt wasn’t exactly sure which of his other sons was pressed to his right side, completely submerged in velvety soft blankets as they were, he just knew that 3 knees were forming 3 separate bruises into his ribs and he was dreading when that 4th gangly joint would accompany them.
Begrudgingly, Schlatt extracted himself from between the cuddly overgrown toddlers and shimmied off the couch, listening as his old bones popped. It was only 9pm, but they’d all been up pretty late the night earlier discussing what had happened at the docks.
His sons knew about his side hustle, it was his main source of income and every well-respected man in power worth his voting card had skeletons in the closet. His day job was the Chief Trade Advisor for all the hospitals in Manberg, it was all too easy to set up deals and acquire shipments for other 'projects'. Last night though, that god complex of a man had the gall to threaten Tubbo? Just because Schlatt wasn’t willing to distribute his experimental opiate?
Schlatt’s parents would have been all for it! Calling up Las Nevadas and pitching it like the sleezy sales associates they were, but Schlatt himself had standards. 25 years ago, that green loving man would have made a killing. 25 years ago, the Crown didn’t have a deal with the residing mafias.
Schlatt looked down at his other 2 sons, their blankets having fallen to the ground when he stood, and who were wrapped around each other tighter than 2 koalas.
Yeahhh, Tubbo looked easier, Schlatt would come back for Purpled and Tommy.
Schlatt did not groan as he lifted Tubbo off of the couch. He was in excellent physical health, thank you very much. He just should have probably, maybe, perhaps stretched a little before carrying all 3 of his children through the mansion on his neck.
Schlatt tucked Tubbo’s head under his stubbled chin, keeping his face from the bright hallway lights.
He remembered when he'd gotten the call from the hospital, freshly 19 and being groomed to take over the family business in ‘pharmaceuticals’.
Tubbo's incubator of a woman -she would never be known as his mother- had fled the hospital the first chance she got. A nurse had found Tubbo crying on the floor and the window open.
She'd stolen a car, but was too intoxicated and weak from the birth that she crashed into the first stoplight turning onto the highway. The airbag broke her neck.
Schlatt remembered when he was given Tubbo, holding him in much the same way he was now, listening to his tiny little heartbeat. Schlatt was still drunk from the night of partying he'd done a few hours before, but the God of Time would have to pry those precious moments from his cold, dead hands before adding them to his white castle.
Schlatt’s parents had hired a private investigator to learn more about her, throw a few grand at the wall to see what stuck. The usual.
Apparently, she worked at a club Schlatt had frequented. Her coworkers had said she was looking for fortune and had quickly targeted Schlatt for his 'old money smile'. She'd poked holes in the condom and was planning on getting him to pay a hefty sum in child support.
Back then, infighting with the mafias still prevailed, and individual groups needed to increase their protection payments. The club then also had to raise their prices, and Schlatt left to find a cheaper district. Mediocre sex and alcohol wasn't worth getting caught up in a shootout after all.
The only reason the hospital had called was because she was cursing his name all throughout her labour. Coupled with the fact that Tubbo was some kind of goat hybrid with a fair amount of sheep genes, specifically Marǧūmi and Dall, and there weren't too many 'markhor' hybrids around named Underscore. It wasn't all that hard to narrow down the search for the father.
If Schlatt had given the club his real first name, or not paid in cash, then maybe he wouldn't have had to listen to his mother dearest scream at the top of her lungs at his father dearest for cheating.
His parents wouldn't even hold Tubbo, simply on the principle that he was born out of wedlock, and that Schlatt "ought to surrender the bastard."
"She could have gotten an abortion, the club would've paid for it too. Keeping us workers happy 'n all that. But bitch was hell bent on her sugar daddy coming back that she delayed until she no longer could."
"I think she was a dolphin hybrid. Had the weirdest laugh. In case your kid wants to know."
"Dolphin? Yeah I'd believe that. Loved to get wet too, if you know what I mean!"
“She didn’t wear a water-mask, dumbass! She was a hyena hybrid or something!”
"She's dead? Fucking Xdii she was supposed to take my Friday shift!"
The club, unsurprisingly didn't have much information about her, no family, no other children, they did warn though about her soy allergy, but luckily that was never passed on to Tubbo.
Schlatt's own parents weren’t much help, he was still allowed to live in their 20-something room mansion, but that was it. Schlatt stopped drinking, bought all of the baby supplies, changed all of the diapers and went to all of the 'Mommy and Me' classes himself. The only time someone else really held Tubbo was when Schlatt's younger sister, Puffy, would babysit for his AA meetings and mandatory 'pharmaceutical business lessons'.
Puffy was disowned when she was 14 for reasons Schlatt wasn’t privy too, and her departure was never negotiated nor discussed. No matter how many times Schlatt begged and snooped and waited in the shadows hoping to hear about why their parents would abbondon her, he never had any luck. She had saved close to a million £ from birthday and Christmas cheques and bought a house in the 4th district. The few times Schlatt asked her about it himself, she would always deflect with her accomplishments on supporting herself. She was especially proud of her home, old french styled with sliding oriel windows, barnyard doors and a greenhouse in the back.
Schlatt paid off her mortgage when she wasn't looking and still hadn’t been forgiven.
Puffy lived off of her savings until she was legally allowed to work, being 'gifted' Dream a few years after that.
And Prime, but no matter how many church lectures Schlatt attended, he still couldn't wrap his mind around Demigods.
"Schlatt, I promise, I was feeding the ducks, and this little duckling came up to me so I held out the food, and then there was an 7-year-old with a mask on! That's it!"
Dream doesn't remember a thing, but the doctors confirmed that he had half of Puffy's DNA so the case was closed as 'divine intervention'. At least Puffy was already an adult, and Schlatt got to pay her back for babysitting.
Foolish, Puffy's eldest, apparently? Also just showed up some time after Dream did, but Schlatt wasn't allowed to ask about that. Wasn’t really fair when he refused to explain how exactly he acquired Tommy and Purpled one such evening.
Schlatt was glad then though, that Tubbo still had an aunt and cousins in his life, and he and Puffy will always be overjoyed that none of their children had the chance to meet their grandparents.
Schlatt placed Tubbo under the covers, pulled out the drawstring from his hoodie and took off his horn rings and pocket chains. Schlatt then brought each blanket up one by one, smoothed them down and tucked Tubbo in, all nice and snug like. Tubbo immediately started to chew on the silk sheets.
Pride filled his chest looking at his eldest's rounding horns, almost as long as Schlatt's own hand! Gone and graduated were the nicknames of Nubs and Stubbie. He was growing up so fast!
Tubbo rolled over in his sleep and Schlatt left to gather his next child.
~~~
21:19 Monday June 20th, 2020
6th District, L’Manberg, 969 Cobble St
Manifold Apartments "Room 520", “Safehouse #6”
Punz lifted their backpack from the scale, replacing his sandals with cheap thongs.
His ride was booked for a few hours from now, one way only but they had plans with a contact in Hypixel to get Punz, and hopefully his target, back to L'Manberg quickly.
Punz had already gone through their preliminary check of their apartment, gathered some extra things as well so that the target, if everything went well, would have some supplies on hand. He doubted that they would have time to pack a bag of childhood belongings and toiletries.
They had started rereading some anti manipulation books too, some "How to Help the Helpless", "100 Ways to make Friends", and "Basic Cult Deprogramming" just in case.
The target was known to many as Crystal SaltnPepper, youngest son to the very well established and connected Ivory, Ebony, and Noir SaltnPeper. They lived on an eastern island in Hypixel, and they prayed to the Death God, the most accepting of all the Lost Gods. Ivory, Ebony, and Noir all came from wealthy families and grew up practically attached at the hip. The 3 declared their polyamorous love to their parents, and their parents declared their unconditional love to their children by sending them to a ‘special correctional camp’. 6 dead bodies and a black and white themed name change later, the throuple decided that child kidnapping was the next best thing since sliced bread.
Punz had looked into ‘Crystal’s’ supposed older siblings: a demon hybrid, a panda hybrid, a polar bear hybrid, a bat hybrid, a ghast hybrid, a wolf hybrid, an angel hybrid, and a spider hybrid. They’d all mysteriously disappeared around their 18th birthdays, and Punz has his suspicions.
Punz was currently packing to stay at a villa on that small eastern island, however they’d framed the excursion as a vacation up north of L’Manberg, and not, y’know, in another country. The binoculars in his bag? Those were for bird watching. The rope? That was for climbing. The pepper spray? That was for the non-native bears of course!
Now, is kidnaping a child from their possible death cult of a home, the right way to save a previously kidnapped victim?
Punz shrugged while stuffing a spare windbreaker into his backpack.
~~~
21:22 Monday June 20th, 2020
1st District, L’Manberg
Schlatt Family Mansion “Victory House”
Schlatt purposefully bumped his youngest’s nightstand, feeling the spare inhaler in his pocket as Tommy snorted then continued to breath just like the rest of the greater avian hybrid population of Manberg: that is to say, shallowly and with barely enough oxygen.
Schlatt, Tubbo and Purpled all had made the mistake before of waking Tommy up, to inform the winged boy that breathing should have a noise to it at least. That waking up chocking was not a common or healthy occurrence nor should he get winded by climbing the stairs. It was one of the only times that Tommy had allowed himself to be checked out by a physician, who simply voiced what Tommy instinctively already knew.
“Most avians, raptors especially, are made for higher altitudes. Their lungs are designed to take in the thin air up in the mountains and their hybrid counterparts can’t always adjust to the plenitude of oxygen down on the ground.” She had explained that the avian hybrids of today’s age had developed a sort of asthma because of this. She assured Schlatt that the prescription inhaler wasn’t like the masks that the water-based hybrids had to constantly wear on land, that Tommy would only need to use it when he felt an attack coming or if he hadn’t flown high enough for awhile.
Her words had eased Schlatt greatly, who had only recently gained custody of Tommy and Purpled and wasn’t too keen on letting them go but,
Tommy didn’t care.
Schlatt had had tears in his eyes, he had refrained from hugging the then touch adverse boy but only just and Tommy? He had been staring at the blue wall of the examination room without a hint of emotion. Tommy had just been told that his lungs were weak to his environment, that even if he moved to live up in the mountains it wouldn’t help the inherited damage already done.
Only a month into being a 10 year old and Tommy didn’t care.
He had just sat and stared at the walls around them, blinking lazily and uncaring about the world around himself.
Schlatt had later learned that Tommy had been dissociating, a term he had never wanted to familiarize himself with.
He’d talked to Puffy that very night, asking about PTSD specialized child therapists and going over all the notes and research Schlatt had thought to have already finished regarding behavioural patterns of abuse victims. He needed to know more then just the surface level depression signs and treatments, how to redirect anxiety attacks and knowing when to step aside. He needed to be perfect for his children and be equipped to help them when they needed it.
Schlatt pulled the covers up past Tommy’s guilty red ears, just how he liked it, and turned on the cow shaped nightlight. He checked that the pitcher of water was full and a clean cup right beside, and removed one of the inhalers from the drawer, placed it in front of the plastic cup.
Tommy sleepily rolled over slightly into his silk pillow, probably to hide his smirk, and Schlatt began to pet his wings for a minute. There was the light click of small hoofs sneaking down the hall, but that wasn’t Schlatt’s main concern right now.
Tommy’s shoulders relaxed a bit more and his velvet wings stretched out to accommodate Schlatt’s gentle ministrations.
Tommy wouldn’t let anyone touch him when he’s first came into Schlatt’s care, only held Purpled’s pinkie and rarely spoke. Purpled was much the opposite, always shouting and throwing things and using his hands more than his words when either of them wanted something.
Schlatt had been terrified when he brought them into his home, afraid that the gentle parenting he did with Tubbo wouldn’t work on children who were used to corporeal punishment. He was scared that they’d take the fact that he would never hurt them as an excuse to do whatever they wanted, just with some mild annoyances, like no juice or TV for a week.
Schlatt would truly be lost without Tubbo. Clever and quick-witted, Tubbo decided to start talking up his penalizations, how he hated going to bed 30 minutes before bedtime, or that he missed the taste of apple juice or how he’d been waiting to see if Batman would team up with Superman and now wasn’t able to. Tubbo had always been a skilled manipulator but that day he’d shown Schlatt mercy and the next thing he knew, Purpled was complaining about not having his grape juice one dinner.
Purpled had worn a small smile on his face, the initial grin that would lead to many more, and barely flinched when Schlatt sighed and reminded the 10 year old that he wasn’t allowed to smash vases full of flowers.
Tommy had met his eyes for just a second, and mumbled some of his first words, asking if they were allowed to “smash the vases without the flowers in them?”
Tubbo and Purpled had locked gazes and immediately doubled down on Tommy’s idea, moaning and complaining about how Schlatt needed to ‘clair-i-fy exactly what the rules are, y’know’
‘Be more specific!’
‘Yeah! That!’
‘mm-hmm’
From that point forward, Shlatt began to notice a connection the 3 of them shared, how their eyes would light up, almost. How they seemed to communicate without words and how they always had each other’s back. How they were punished less and less because they covered their tracks better and better.
Speaking of, Schlatt deemed that Tommy really was asleep now, and slowly walked out of the bedroom and back down the hall, listening as Purpled and a very much awake Tubbo moved around the TV room.
~~~
21:27 Monday June 20th, 2020
1st District, L’Manberg, 2445 Suncrest Rd
Craft Family Mansion “Morning-Glory House”
Phil had just ended a call with one of his information managers, when he walked back into the living room to see Technoblade hunched over on the couch, egg yolk dripping down his face, as the stronger piglin hybrid indulged his Cain instinct and was holding down his twin to the cushions and squishing a cupcake all over his mouth. Jack was a safe distance away from the warring twins, cheering on Wilbur merely out of pity as there was no way he, a scavenger piglin, would be able to fend off his brute twin. The green couch was creaking from the weight, Wilbur was giggling like a madman, Technoblade was giving his little ‘I won’t hurt you too much’ growls, and Niki was beside the doorway that Phil had come through. Her arms were crossed as she pointedly stuck out her chin and raised an eyebrow. A silent question if Phil could handle his children, or would she need to step in.
It was insulting, really, that she still had to ask.
Phil, with his delicately hollow bones, properly stepped through the doorway, walking right up to his misbehaving warriors for sons and flared out his dark, foreboding wings.
“Boys!”
Technoblade halted and they both grew quiet, their long bejewelled ears flickering towards him. Wilbur’s hooves were pressed against his brother’s chest, Technoblade was holding both of his brother’s hands together in one as he paused his cupcake assault. They were observing him, frozen, hesitating and questioning and calculating in a manner far too identical to his heir. Phil saw the exact moment that the twins’ eyes moved to just over his shoulder, then they both sat up.
Niki’s question was insulting, really. Insultingly accurate.
Phil exhaled heavily through his nose and turned his head down, an instinctual sign of displeasure in piglin culture, one of the first things he learned from Kristen. The twins responded appropriately and tilted their own heads down with him, asking for forgiveness.
“Why?” Phil breathed out, the occurrence not unusual but still annoying to clean up.
“Techno said my forehead looks like an egg!” Wilbur suddenly complained, pointing at Techno’s smug face.
“It does, I provided a visual representation.”
“He-” Wilbur spluttered and waved his hands through the air. “drew my face on an egg, and gave me this big ass forehead and went on about receding hairlines!”
“Then Wil threw the egg at my face. I also have an egg for Jack, I think they’re accurate.”
“Hey!”
Niki made sure that Jack didn’t get in the way as Technoblade pulled a second egg from his pocket, it somehow not cracking throughout the grappling, and handed it to Phil.
The smudged black marked egg had Jack’s sunglasses and a wobbly smile, and Phil had to hold back his snicker at the childishness.
“Techno,” deep breaths, don’t laugh, don’t snort, don’t fucking giggle. “you can’t antagonize your brother and not expect a retaliation.” Yeah, that sounds like something a responsible parent would say.
“Oh no, I was fully prepared for his retaliation.” Technoblade gave a wicked grin as Wilbur threw himself at his brother. Technoblade easily stopped him with a lone extended hand to his frosted face, Wilbur’s wiry arms somehow failing to reach him.
Phil sighed, but refused to look to Niki for help. She had her arms full with Jack, anyways. Probably.
“Both of you are going to clean the mess from the couch, and you’re both not getting any of the cupcakes tonight.” Simple punishment. Nice and easy.
“What? Both of us? But I was attacked!” Wilbur moaned as Technoblade tried to school his expression. His face going from that of ‘evil twin’ to ‘victory’.
“You helped make the mess, you help clean it up.” Phil wagged his finger at Wilbur then pointed to the bits of egg white that had dripped to the couch.
“Besides Wilbur, you already had some cupcake tonight.” Technoblade smirked and, oh that little shit. Phil tried to pull them apart, really he did, but Wilbur had given a mighty roar and descended on to a far too pleased Technoblade to resume their brawl.
~~~
21:30 Monday June 20th, 2020
1st District, L’Manberg, 107 Birch Ave
Schlatt Family Mansion “Victory House”
“Snooooore…”
“Snoore, pi, pi, pi…”
“Snooooooooooore…”
His sons were asleep. That’s what they said, at least, when Schlatt had asked. That’s why Purpled’s eyes were closed as Schlatt carried him. That’s also why Tubbo and Tommy kept bumping into the walls and random doors and whatever lined the hallway. Because they’re asleep so their eyes are closed and they’re sleepwalking. Makes sense.
“Snoooooore…”
“I’m sleeeeeepiiiiiiing…”
These are the sounds that a sleeping person makes. They go pi pi pi like in cartoons and they say the word ‘snore’ instead of obnoxiously breathing through their mouths. Very convincing, faultless truly, totally real.
They also complain that, well “since both Tubbo and Tommy were carried, you should carry me, too!” and their lilac tail will swing back and forth like an excited puppy and their freckles will cast a fuchsia glow, just like they do whenever Purpled’s happy. These are just typical sleeping people things, you see.
“Oh shit-”
Sometimes they’ll fall, since their eyes are closed and they’re walking down the halls and are tripping over everything, including their own hooves.
“Oh Prime!”
“Buwhahah-ohmyfuckin-XD!”
Their younger brothers will quietly laugh at them, and Shlatt will walk past his fallen son as Tubbo continues to lay on the ground, perhaps choosing to sleep in the middle of the floor tonight in embarrassment. It's better for your back, you know.
Normal, average, nightly sleeping people things.
~~~
22:10 Tuesday September 22nd, 2020
SaltnPepper Private Island, SkyBlock, Hypixel
SaltnPepper Estate “Gray Castle”, “Death House”, “The House”, “Crypt”, “Ghost House”, “Jail”, “Not My Home”, “Torture Castle”, “Monochrome Mansion”, “Evil Lair”
Ebony would be scheduling a haircut for them soon, his dual toned strands were starting to brush past his ears again and that just wasn't acceptable to their standards for the ender hybrid.
Ranboo, because their name was Ranboo and not fucking Crystal, glanced at his sorry self in the far too tall mirror. Their eye bags were fully visible after taking off the concealer, his lips were thin and tight, their cheeks gaunt. Even their soft tail was aching. He looked as starved as he felt.
Taking out their white contacts was slightly better, his glowing red and green eyes the only colourful things in this primeforsaken castle.
Ranboo watched, mesmerized as their eyes reflected at him through the long mirror, bouncing off his black monkey suit like red and green spotlights in the fog of night.
Ranboo would make a good lighthouse. A great lighthouse. Better then a sacrifice at least.
There was a freezing wind against their back, which was odd, Ranboo could have sworn that he'd closed the window.
He had turned off the too white, clinical lights and was now paying the consequences of seeing shadows that belonged to nothing and everything at once. Night vision be damned, just because they could still see the outlines of flowers and crows on their wallpaper, didn't make them any less creepy. The symbols of Death were not known for their scriptured acts of being harmless.
Ranboo's heart picked up as they felt eyes following him, and immediately turned their gaze to the corner where he had seen a spider make residence that morning. The web glittered a delicate silver, but Ranboo saw nothing of their new arachnid friend.
Their curtains moved in his peripheral, the clouds teasingly grazing over the moon, the small clicks of something against his open window.
Another gust of cold flew direct by their ear, a wisper in the breeze of warning in a language too old to remember.
Ranboo's ears dropped and their tail wrapped around his leg as they shivered, goosebumps rolling down their arms and his hair stood on end, and they decided that that was enough time for their identity crisis.
Ranboo moved quietly, not wanting to make any more noise then necessary, keeping time with the beats of the dark grandfather clock by his door. His footfalls were practiced and light as a feather, but the sound was distorted as they kept hearing another pair of slippers echo his own.
A cloud must have covered the moon again as everything became a touch darker, a few degrees colder, the wings of the painted crows and wither roses seemingly a little bit more alive.
Ranboo glanced at the window, the imperial black curtain flowed in the breeze and violently whipped its ends. It looked as though the fabric was going to tear off the rung. Ranboo could just imagine the rings clattering to the floor, the sheet flying back and dragging him down into the forest.
Was that a scream outside or a tree falling? Was someone beating on a drum out in the dark and unforgiving night or just his heartbeat?
The hairs on the back of their neck and tail somehow stood up straighter, almost electrified, and Ranboo distantly wondered if there would be a storm tonight.
Ranboo let out a shaky breath as a night bird called, either outside or just inside his window, Ranboo couldn't tell, they felt like they were being watched still, the feeling not letting up. It could be the spider hidden in a crevice, or the bird who's hopefully outside, or the hundreds of messengers of death painted on his walls, their beady black eyes almost glowing like his own. Almost aware.
They had a deep and instinctual feeling in their gut, an odd 6th sense that had been passed down through the generations of countless survivors, victors who could always tell when they were not alone. That something or someone was hiding in the too black shadows and following him, getting closer and closer, just a hair's breath on his neck away. Someone who had been watching him, studying their movements and habits for weeks and only waiting until now to strike.
A noise, drowning out the clock and the drumming and their struggling heart altogether, the sound of heavy wings beating through the air, a murder of hundreds of crows circling above and marking Ranboo prey.
Ranboo kept still, stood before his bed and turned just their eyes to the window. A fog had rolled down the mountains and through the trees and Ranboo realized that even as his eyes glowed in the glass panning of the window, that they couldn't see a thing. Whether it be an animal under the mist or merely the wind, Ranboo didn't know and would never make a good lighthouse.
The clouds parted and in the light of the moon, their dark silhouettes reflected in the glass of the window. Ranboo with his red and green eyes, and another right behind him, violet eyes ablaze and reaching out from behind towards Ranboo's face.
Ranboo’s scream was muffled by a sudden hand over his mouth, sharp nails digging into their cheeks as he was pulled back into a hard and unrelenting chest, an arm snaking around him to grasp their flailing arms and hold them tightly down at their sides.
Crows were shouting in their ears, the wind screaming about not heeding her words as Ranboo struggled and writhed in the grave clutches of someone unknown.
This wasn't part of the plan, Ranboo still had time before he was sacrificed to the God of Death, still a few months before they're 18, they still had time! Still a chance to escape! They still had time!
But maybe the God was greedy, maybe he wanted more and maybe he wanted blood and maybe he couldn't wait. Maybe Ranboo wouldn't be poisoned like the tales their 'parents' would speak of. There are far easier ways to kill a child then with a tea of nightshade, wither rose and hemlock.
The person, stalker or monster, tried to shush Ranboo and talk to them, but he wasn't going to give up without a fight. Ranboo threw their head back and kicked their legs up and whipped their tail, a futile effort to break free. Attempted to bite the hand holding him with his sharp fangs but they were squeezing too tightly, forcing his jaw closed.
Ranboo was weak, not enough food nor exercise for years does that to a person. Makes it easier to hold them down, tie them to that sacred slab of concrete etched with runes and decorated in blood. Easier for them to stop their struggles and tire and bleed.
Ranboo could feel themself begin to tire, the wind and crows and drums and blood and gentle shushing in their ears be damned, he wasn't going to stop, he wasn't!
Until he did.
Ranboo's arms could no longer pull against the other's, their legs had become trapped in-between their tail with one measly leg of their assailant, arms at their sides and head forced aside, just keeping them still. Ranboo would have given up everything to once again be able to teleport away.
"-2, 3, 4, hold 2, 3, 4, out 2, 3-"
Breathing exercises?!
Ranboo didn't need to breath, they needed to scream and escape and oh, wait no, they needed to breath too. That was important.
Ranboo didn't feel the aching in their lungs until after they'd taken a gulp of air and realized they were severely lacking in that good sweet oxygen. The bringer of life, absent in death.
"-4, in 2, 3, 4, hold 2, 3, 4, you're doing so well, just keep breathing. Listen to my voice. Out 2, 3, 4-"
Ranboo felt horrible ugly tears of surrender burn down his face, their struggles nothing besides the occasional twitch, more focused on not passing out then whomever was holding them captive.
The violet eyed person reached into his own coat pocket, pulling out Ranboo's handkerchief with practiced ease as though they've seen Ranboo do so themself a million times.
Ranboo still flinched with every touch as they softly dampened the silk to his watery eyes. No matter how telegraphed the movement was they were still freaking out and each new development burned more than the acid in his tears.
The violet eyes were hushing him again, the too warm breath along Ranboo's cheek a stark contrast the chill of their room. Ranboo's eyes were wide, wider than they’ve ever been before and full of a quiet terror.
"There we go, you back with me yet?" The voice was patronizingly gentle, almost like they didn’t just climb 5 stories and grab Ranboo from behind.
The violet-eyed stranger eased up a bit when they realized that Ranboo wouldn’t be escaping anytime soon, a gloved hand still gripping their mouth, but with an smidgen more personal space.
“I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. My name is Gray, I use He/They pronouns, and I’m here to help you escape.”
What in the 9 fucking rings of Hell?!
~~~
23:23 Tuesday September 22nd, 2020
SaltnPepper Private Island, SkyBlock, Hypixel
SaltnPepper Estate “Forbidden Forest”, “Escape Route”, “Lots of Trees” , “Escape Plan A”, “Spooky Forest”, ”Fairy Realm”, “Escape Plan C”, “Biking Trail”, “Last Chance”, “Super Obvious Escape Route”
So, Punz was kinda freaked out a bit. Just a little though, not too much, he was too cool for that.
But like, a decently small amount of freak.
See, Punz was a mercenary. That was his actual job title, they got paid and did their taxes and because of the legendary agreement from L’Manberg’s late Queen and the leading mafia families surrounding, it was completely legal. So legal in fact, that the current Monarch, Eret, had hired Punz all those years ago to find their missing little brother, Prince Rainbow.
Punz accepted the job not only for the ridiculous amount of money that Eret paid them, but because they knew how the reigning Monarch had to have felt. Punz too, had failed their own little brother, and lost him. He had never stopped searching for his family, and hoped to help make sure that no one else feel as rotten as Punz did everyday because of their own mistake.
He was caring like that.
The money though, that was still a pretty big decision maker. A solid 80% if not more.
Now, Punz had saved a lot of children in their time. Kidnapping and child trafficking seemed to be an ongoing trend and he is proud to say that a good chunk were rescued by him specifically. Good points to add to a résumé, right?
And sure, Punz had jumped the gun a few times too, gotten their fair share of false hope over too many coincidences.
An alien hybrid with red hair? Not quite.
An ender hybrid 5 years too old? No dice.
A blond alien hybrid, who’s actually 2 people that are conjoined at the hip? Punz would have remembered that.
But now, the ender hybrid running through the woods besides them, with red and green eyes and perfectly split white and black skin? Who calls themselves Ranboo which sounds awfully close to Rainbow… Punz doesn’t want another round of too many coincidences.
It was solely by those lessons learned that they didn’t immediately send a photo to Eret’s personal phone, to let the royal biometrics and AIs determine if the boy was the long-lost prince. Not without some subtle interrogations first, at least.
Punz glanced over and wondered if Ranboo had asthma with how hard they were wheezing. Certainly the spine of a wet spaghetti noodle, but bruh.
Now, Punz knows that Ranboo’s weak; mentally and physically. He was spying on them for a month, he’s well informed about how Ranboo was always shouted at and belittled and manipulated by his ‘parents’ and how they were rarely allowed to leave their room to get some sun or touch grass.
Punz knows that anyone in Ranboo’s position would be weak and frail and breakable. Punz is also aware that he can still laugh at them in the back of their mind because of this.
Punz had no doubt that the interrogation wasn’t going to be very hard, actually. Ranboo would probably just spill the beans with a look. Unhealthy relationships with your guardians would do that to someone.
However…
Punz could see the light in the kid’s eyes. The hope and excitement and overall lack of fear. The kid just got kidnapped again! Had a panic attack and everything! They should not be this trusting.
“My name is Punz, I am here to help you!”
“My saviour! Yes, let’s sneak out of this castle and run through the woods and illegally return to our home country! Yippee!”
That’s not exactly how their conversation went, Punz called themselves ‘Gray’. That’s the only difference though. Totally.
And besides, Punz and Gray were really similar! Both have 4 letters, both only have 1 vowel as long as you count ‘y’ as a consonant in this case.
Punz checked their watch, they only had 18 minutes left before their ride took off, but Punz was confident they could make it. Might have to carry Ranboo, the unathletic beanpole, and the bag they had packed for this mission, and some stupid diary that Ranboo had insisted on bringing, but they were almost there so that was just a plan B. Punz could definitely do it though.
“How do you feel about extreme sports?”
Punz had to grasp Ranboo’s arm before the kid stopped running completely in their own stupid disbelief.
“Why?” The Oxford Dictionary should really put a picture of Ranboo’s face next to the word ‘confused’. It would be oh so accurate.
Punz decided to not answer, in case if the kid was afraid of heights or something. Better to handle that while already on the helicopter then in enemy territory.
~~~
23:38 Tuesday September 22nd, 2020
1st District, L’Manberg, 100 Prism Rd
Royal Palace “Pride Palace”, ” The Palace”, “Castle on the Hill”, “Big Bricks”
Eret
You up??
there was this cute dog today tht seraphine brought
Seraphine the diplomat from Hypixel
Do you wanna see???
attachment sent through RCS chat
I think his name is Spots
such a basic name
but a good doggy
seen
Eret waited almost 5 minutes, but their sister didn’t text back. No little dots appeared or any kind of reaction emoji or anything. Their white eyes glowed like a flashlight, focusing and unfocusing on random things in their room. The curtains, the bear plushie, the picture frames, the gilded trees and fauna emboldened on their walls.
Eret sighed and tried not to think about how hollow they felt. They rolled over in their large bed, plugged in their phone, and distracted themselves by thinking of all of the things they unfortunately needed to do tomorrow.
There was that meeting with Seraphine, Hypixel asking for more freshwater trade but yet again not willing to pay any kind of sufficient amount.
There’s a tour of the west wing of the palace happening in the morning. Maybe Eret could play Normal Person and see if any guards would notice?
A fundraiser for a new charity that evening hosted by Fundy’s parents. Another popularity event, but political connections are always important. If all else, they could go and entertain Fundy.
There was that wedding they were invited to over in Hermitcraft. Sounded fun! An open bar and a petting zoo are 2 ideas that should not be together, but Eret really wanted to see an animal pee on some mother-in-law. If they do go though, then not only will the crown be expected to pay for the entire venue, but it would also put pressure on Eret attending future weddings of random strangers who think Eret owes them something.
Maybe Eret could visit one of their farms tomorrow? See the cute animals without worry of some snooty bitch questioning their authority. It’d been awhile since they last went and relaxed in a farm surrounded by sheep and cows and horses. Maybe they could even go riding? It didn’t have to be sunny, Eret had the proper equipment to ride in the rain and not risk melting. They could invite Fundy too if he’s not busy with mafia things and the event. He doesn’t live with his parents anymore either so no need to ask their permission.
With that thought in mind, Eret drifted off into a dreamless sleep, and a ghost of a smile.
~~~
23:44 Tuesday September 22nd, 2020
SaltnPepper Private Island, SkyBlock, Hypixel
SaltnPepper Public Docs and Landing Pad “Part 3 of Escape Plan A”, “Fuck Off the Island Time”, “Final Chance of being Caught”, “So Close”
Gray was pushing them towards the neon tourist trap helicopter with signs and fairy lights and no doors just open space and Ranboo had a bad feeling about this! There were 4 other people besides the one who climbed into the pilot’s seat with a mad glint in their eyes and a wink towards Gray, and oh, look at that. Ranboo’s all strapped in and ready for takeoff.
“It’s dark.” Ranboo thought that Gray looked shocked to hear them speak at all considering the past hour was full of them wheezing through the forest. Gray didn’t say anything, just raised an eyebrow and handed over a set of headphones.
“What kind of tourists go on a helicopter at night?”
Gray gave them a coy smile before putting on their own set of headphones. “The adrenaline junkies.” The couple behind their seat let out a whoop of agreement at their new and oh so majestic title.
Ranboo frowned and reached up to Gray’s headphones, Ranboo still had questions damnit, but the older man swatted his hand and put Ranboo’s own set on for them.
Just then the speakers in their headphones crackled to life and the voice of someone who loved their job a bit too much met their ears.
“Alright alright ALRIGHT! Guys, gals, pals, are you ready to soar through Hypixel’s mountainous range all the way to L’Manberg? AND THEN JUMP INTO A VOLCANO???!!!”
Were they serious? No no nonono! Ranboo was NOT READY! Not ready at all. Oh they did NOT just escape being sacrificed to the God of Death only to die in a volcano! ‘Jump into a volcano’ WHAT RESONABLE PERSON JUMPS INTO A BURNING HOT, LAVA FILLED VOLCANO?????
Ranboo flinched for the nth that night when Gray reached out and kindly grasped their hand, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into Ranboo’s knuckles. He said something too, but Gray’s words didn’t match their soft expression, so Ranboo almost didn’t believe them until rational came through and everything clicked. How they were crossing the border without passports or any kind of ID, how he would never willingly be spotted with these hooligans, how Gray and the pilot seemed to know each other, why Gray asked their opinion on extreme sports then never bothered to clarify.
“We’re going sky diving!”
That is not as comforting as a statement as you think it is, Gray!
Notes:
Tubbo, Purpled and Tommy: *blink*
Schlatt: I'm such a bad fatherAlso:
Phil: I hate her, I Hate Her, never forgive never forget, liar, meanie
Niki:*smiles*
Phil: bitch :(And:
Punz: *breaks in and scares the fucking daylights out of ranboo*
Ranboo: panicpanicpanicpanic
Punz: i here to help!
Ranboo: i calm
Punz: ...so...skydiving?
Ranboo:PANICPANICPANICPANICPANIC
I wrote this because I ran out of fics to read
y'all need to write some more
This is Fanon C!Wilbur Soot and C!Shubble (though shubble has a much smaller part in this fic then wilbur, and they don't even interact) it's ok if that bothers you, no one is pressuring you to read something with characters you won't like. Don't like, don't read
That is also to say, that if in the future anymore members of the DSMP that are included in this fic do something *unsavory*, then again, this is about the fanon Characters, NOT the Content Creators
Fanon characters, not canon characters: I prefer my comfort characters as one big happy family thank you very much
Ex:RichKid character =/= Actual person
Things to keep in mind:
(There's a LOT of miscommunication and unreliable narrators in this series, so I figured it'd be helpful to keep a little list at the end of each chapter of things that you may have missed)
Not going to dig in too deep here since it's only the first chapter, but there will be many references in later chapters, that basically say 'yo go back and read this section again but now with context'
○ Shlatt thinks he's a bad parent, because he's never had a model for what a good parent should be
○ Tubbo, Purpled and Tommy are very closed off from the rest of the world, and are incredibly childish for their age
○ Niki betrayed Phil, and she still hasn't been forgiven 10 years later, no matter how close they are now
○ About 500 people showed up to protest the homeless population
○ The crown made a deal with the mafias 25 years ago
○ There is 1 major religion in DSMP
○ Schlatt and Puffy both keep secrets from eachother about their children
○ Ranboo had an escape plan, Gray (Punz) just beat them to it
○ Ranboo was only given the bare minimum to survive ON PURPOSE and is very weak because of that
○ Punz is a mercenary, and is on the Crown's payroll and they specialize in rescuing children
If you ever have any questions, let me know, and I'll either explain it to you and find a way to work it into earlier chapters, or I'll give you a hint and tell you to watch out for an upcoming specific chapter # where it will be explained then
Sometimes I miss things, so if it doesn't make sense, just hit me up in the comments
Consistent updates AFTER chapter 3 is posted. By that time I should have the whole thing written
-Nymous o7
Chapter 2: Fortune Favours the Bold (and Abandons the Timid)
Summary:
not a full chapter update fyi
Punz takes a *trip*
Quackity plays games
Notes:
CW: References to murder and dead bodies (not shown, uses metaphors instead), drug usage (implied), child trafficking, XD, gambling, ableism
more will be added when rest of chapter is posted
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
2:42 September 23rd, 2020
8th District, L’Manberg
4053 Bedrock St, “Random Condemned Building”, “Ye Old Markiplier Hotel”
Punz has a license to kill.
Pretty common thing for legalized mercenaries to have, but people usually seemed to forget about it. They’ve had it for almost 14 years now, and he always renews it on time every 3 years no matter how tedious the process is, and they put it in a lanyard around their neck whenever he’s actively working so that it’s properly visible and in accordance with the safety regulations surrounding.
That is to say, Punz follows the rules set in place specifically to make his job easier, and they’re all the better for it. If he didn’t, then Punz would be doing a lot more then 25.
Well, not that they’d get caught, per se.
But still, easier.
He shuffled his feet and made sure that they never left the ground, heedfully aware of the used syringes and random screws, wood, and glass bottles littered throughout the torn-up room. They kicked a bruised hand out of their path, hearing it crunch more then he expected.
Oh, right. Steel-toed boots.
They looked down to the shadowed carpet, the person resembling more like a rotten eggplant then flesh and bone, and Punz didn’t really think they’d be using their hand much anymore.
But yeah, people forgot, and that’s not Punz’s fault, really.
He made his way over to a boarded-up window, peeling back a bit of the rotting wood and checking for any witnesses or nosey neighbours needing to be placated. Fucking Karens, always getting in the way.
“Yes, this is legal, yes this is my license, you can check for yourself on the registry, no I won’t be telling you why I killed them. No, I only need to inform the police, not you. No, you cannot go and see them. You can call 911 if you want, but I’ll be calling them too for an inspection and a clean-up, so we’ll see who they answer first.”
Technically, Punz doesn’t even have to talk to the random civilians while they’re working. Civilians don’t have a badge or access to classified information regarding his mission. Punz just does it because the general population can get really annoying.
Punz's side twinged in pain, too much time spent crouching behind a wall before jumping his shadows no doubt. They'd followed themself and Ranboo all the way from the island, using the bedazzled helicopter that the SaltnPepper family apparently had set up all nice and pretty like on their roof, hidden behind some incredibly large chimneys that were surely a hazard. A gaudy Sikorsky S92 VIP with a full tank and ready for take off just 2 minutes after they did. That would have been nice to know earlier, Ranboo.
And y'know? Punz is mature enough to admit -silently in their head- that with every passing second they flew strapped into that rickety ass helicopter, they wished they could be soaring in that fucking Sikorsky tank. Let it be known, above all else, that the SaltnPeppers had the good shit. Truly, an aeronautical engineer's wet dream and Punz really wanted to press all of the shiny buttons. It was sleek and long and, actually, it needed a name. Bet the SaltnPepper's gave it a shitty name like Theodore, or Greydon or something stupid.
Well, no, Greydon's fine. Fine-ish. Gray is still 100 times better though, but Punz can't expect the SaltnPepper's to know too much about anything truly important in this world, like proper naming skills.
No no no. The sparkly helicopter needed a great name. An awesome name. One that inspired people to hold a hand over their hearts, look up into the sky and be blinded by the artistic fucking rhinestones whose reflection could rival the Primedamned sun!
A name that would make the birds sing and Gods cry! That even when whispered, the grounds would shake and erect mountains and topple cities and bring forth fire and brimstone onto all the nonbelievers!
A name like Patrick!
Patrick! What a glorious name, Punz could compose operas just for Pat-
Punz felt small, all of a sudden, like after a wave passes by and everything is still.
Their side was stinging a bit more and cramping in the worst possible way and his head was fogging up like he'd forgotten to eat again. Had they eaten today?
Fuck, what were they doing?
Punz should probably call the police soon, get eggplant guy, and that other one who seems a little tomato-esque, and the other ones who don't look like vegetables, all cleaned up. He should pick up his phone and call them.
Oh Patrick, beautiful Patrick. And the Primedamned vegetables who chased them in Patrick. Punz really wanted to chase people in Patrick, that sounded like so much fun!
The veggie gang fucked up his plans though, they'd had to jump off the boat early somewhere in district 10 and bus to district 8 instead of speeding up the river the whole way.
Punz had pointed the kid in the general area of the district crossing, told them to run north to 6th, and find the smallest Manifold apartment, building room 520 and ok sure. Maybe, that wasn't the greatest thing to do to someone who hasn't seen a crosswalk in the last decade.
Desperate measures though, alright?
Kid could've gotten hurt if they'd stayed with Punz.
No, running through 3 unknown districts in the most crime ridden part of the country was definitely safer then duking it out with his kidnapper, fighting off their other would-be kidnappers.
Hopefully.
Now, Punz just needed to talk to the police about a certain couple of steadily cooling vegetables -Aimsey was most likely on shift- and then hunt down a 6ft tall teenager who probably only made it to 7th district. Kid didn't know L'Manberg and could hardly run through an ornamental forest, he wouldn't get far on the streets.
Punz would do their job, call this in, just as soon as their head fog cleared up and the people on the ground stopped looking like vegetable soup.
~~~
4:02 September 23rd, 2020
10th District, L’Manberg, 777 Las Nevadas Ave
Las Nevadas Casino, Quackity’s Head Office
“Naming yourself after the God of Creation. A little conceited to be wearing that then, huh?”
Xdii didn’t bother to give a response, just continued to stare at Quackity and the poker chip he was rolling over his fingers.
Quackity couldn’t see their eyes, not with that sacrilegious porcelain in the way, but he still caught the shift in their shoulders, how they almost took a step back and how their hands clenched at the sight of yellow masses on his back.
Quackity's had some adverse reactions before to people connecting the dots about his wings: It's not too difficult, just one glimpse and bam! They assume his whole life story based on some side character in a Hollywood film they think applies to him.
Some openly laugh, others fake pity, after all no one would ever guess that the man who built Las Nevadas, Head of the King mafia and one of the most influential people in the whole of Essempii, would be disabled.
Quackity’s pretty sure this is the first time anyone's ever been angry on his behalf though, as ridiculous as that would be.
The demigod stood caught in the doorway, their shadow stretched out past into the hall and far longer then what Quackity could see from his desk. They wore a light grey suit that looked as though it was sculpted from the same marble that lined the floors of Life’s churches, and the twin gold bands around their neck almost His halos. Their mask, the same one that every demigod's gifted as a child, had no chips nor cracks and shone a horrible white in the dimmed LEDs.
Quackity tried not to judge people on what they wore, really he did, but primedamnit sometimes it was just so fucking hard.
Like really? Religious cosplay to a business meeting with an openly devout man, in one of the most Gods-fearing countries this side of the Atlantic?
Pinche pendejo.
A lot of different flavours of people came to visit Quackity in his office, usually all wanting the same sort of thing. Fellow members of parliament, all dressed to the nines and trying to assure his vote, drunk patrons who’ve just lost their savings in the casino downstairs, begging for mercy, his own people wanting a loan… It was exhausting how little creativity there was in the average population. Even now, everyone that came to Quackity had a problem and expected him to fix it.
“Before we begin,” Xdii jolted at his sudden words, their hair just visible behind their mask weaving through the air as though gravity was merely a suggestion. The tension in their shoulders was still there and their neck flushed a dark red, and even though they were fully facing each other, he knew deep in his bones that Xdii was still looking behind him. If Quackity didn’t know any better, he would assume that Xdii was offended by his wings.
Quackity took a breath before he gestured to the wooden cabinet next to the door, its shelves filled with exactly what you would expect to be stored in a casino’s office. Xdii’s head tilted, and Quackity imagined them raising an eyebrow as they sauntered over and opened the cupboards. Now that he could see them better, their shadow still seemed disproportionate on the carpet, the legs too long, too many arms-
“Children’s games?”
Quackity scoffed and leaned forward in his chair, a grin on his face that was maybe a little too feral. “Games can be enjoyed by everyone! Just ask the people downstairs.” He rebutted as Xdii crossed their arms. Quackity rolled his eyes, folding his hands under his chin and stretching out his wings a bit. Honestly, no one does their homework these days.
“I request that I play against anyone who wants to do business with me. I like to see how they can multitask and their reactions to losing.” That, and Quackity liked to fuck with people.
The rest of his meetings usually went one of two ways at this point: either they’ll remember that there are two other major mafias in this country and leave, or they’ll reluctantly play and overthink every move they make. There’s only been one time that someone actually wanted to play against him, a stripper who was overjoyed to see Mancala collecting dust on the top shelf. They played it every Friday until she amended her contract to move south.
Xdii was taking their sweet time deciding and Quackity started to grow a pit in their stomach, subtly pushing one of the many the little buttons under his chair.
Now see, sometimes people come to the wrong conclusions. Sometimes they’ll notice how young he is, the cute little smiley face on his beanie, how half of the games in that cabinet are labeled three and up... They’ll see his underdeveloped wings and think that Quackity’s brain is in a similar state, and they’ll immediately start to underestimate him. Ignore all of his achievements and focus on the big, adorable targets on his back. Whenever that happens, Quackity likes to call in reinforcements.
“I will not lose.” Xdii spoke like it was just a fact, an undeniable truth that Prime Himself couldn’t deny and shit man, everyone’s got an ego. Quackity shrugged, nonplused as Xdii unceremoniously grabbed a small box from the cabinet and slammed it down onto the desk with little care and a loud dissonant that echoed through the hall. Amused, he flipped the poker chip up into their air above their heads, Xdii sat down and Quackity leaned forward out of his seat, one hand on the desk for support, and caught the chip right in front of their porcelain. With a sardonic quirk of his mouth, he rolled the chip once more over each finger and with a flick of his wrist, held his empty palm open.
It was a fun little trick that he'd been taught by a travelling magician, and it always gave the intended result: Xdii was looking at him now, not just behind him, but his eyes, reaching closer and closer to their patience's limit every second.
Good.
People who've lost their tempers are so much easier to manipulate.
Quackity brought the cards out of the box with practiced ease and started to shuffle when he realized that this deck seemed a bit heavier then normal, and almost snorted when he glimpsed at the packaging again-
There are plenty of games in his cabinet, the higher tax brackets usually choose to play chess when they bitterly accept his ‘request’, the lower class and those near the sea quite often go for Blackjack, usually taught to them by sailors in the local pubs. Quackity doesn’t like to label games as being more childish or more adult simply based on their target audience, but he knows that not everyone has the same view, and that many of his games are rarely used because of that prejudice. Almost no one chooses to play Checkers or Battleship even though the option is there, along with the few specific boxes beside his multiple decks of normal playing cards: Old Maid, Memory, Uno, and of course no one has ever picked-
“Go Fish? Good choice. 7 cards to start?”
~~~
Notes:
Punz:
Vegtables: *ded
Punz:... soup
XD walks into the room:...
Quackity: Stay BACK Foul AbomiNATION
hello!
as you may have noticed this isn't a full chapter, as i like to have atleast 10k per chapter for this fic, y'all are just getting this sneak peak because i feel bad about making (counts 1, 2, 3...) all 6 of you wait like a year.I was, uh, i don't know, sky diving from a helicopter at night into a fiery volcano or some shit, and my computer decided to be a pain in the butt to carry everywhere so I've been typing this all on my phone for the past 12 months, and will probably write the remaining chapters more or less the same way until my computer magically losses 10 pounds. machines don't seem to understand Hot Girl Summer ig
if anyone gave up on me finishing this fic, fair
but ive got 35,000 words of 18 chapters rough draft to get through before i call this fic done, so, suck it. you're stuck with me.glacier slow updates though, as you can probably guess
the regular updates after ch 3 is posted thing? probably will move that to chapter 6 or 7 or whatever. I'll let y'all know. I'll try to write enough to post semi consistently (like once every 2 months ish 3 months ish) until ive written out all 18 chapters, but again, thumbs on tiny screen is harder then 10 digits on keyboard.
I actually have Ranboo's POV for this chapter done too, its supposed to be right after Punz, but it ends on a cliffhanger and i didn't want to be too mean to y'all who have been so patient, so i'll post it with the rest of this chapter when no one is in danger of falling (getit? cliff hanger? no?)
I really like his chapter though, lots of visual stuff went into it so if you want i may write the next POV that shows the resolved cliffhanger, and post them together before i actually finish this chapter for real? as another 'sneak peak'? only if you want tho, its basically Riodorian level cliff hanger if you understand that reference..
your choiceI'd say that the rest of this chapter should be updated by the end of the month, but i don't know fam, i burned my thumb cooking today and it really hurts so it's making it hard to type on my phone.
anywhoo, hope you enjoy Punz and Quackity and XD
i wonder if anyone can guess who quackity called and why they're taking as long as me to update lol
-o7 Nymous
‼️💯🔥✊BAMBIWN_BAMBOOZELD‼️‼️💯💯 (Guest) on Chapter 1 Thu 20 Jun 2024 05:38AM UTC
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