Chapter Text
Whoever invented computers was homophobic. Sure, Tommy wasn’t gay, but he was having to mildly inconvenience his computer science teacher, Sam Nook, the only man ever, and the best coder alive, about the GitHub program not working. He was pretty sure Mr. Nook was gay, judging by the various rumors of the lunchbox note wars between him and his husband.
As he went up to the desk, Sa- Mr. Nook, in school hours- was furiously scribbling on a sticky note. Tommy was pretty sure he read the word sweetheart and amputation in the same sentence, which did not bode well for the rumor mill. Or the Other Mr. Nook.
“Mr. Nook-” Tommy dragged out his name, “The program isn’t working again.”
Sam sighed, giving Tommy a playful look. He got up and ambled over to the computer, “Why is it that your computer never wants to cooperate anymore?”
Tommy bit back the answer of, Tubbo could manipulate them to get me a good grade before. Now the stupid hero program made him drop out and my grade has gone with him. It wasn’t that the computer was even at fault. Tommy was useless at anything technical. Phil had taught the basics of how most machines worked to Techno and Wilbur, about how to use a VPN and whatever else. But as soon as Tommy’s powers hadn’t sprouted at the age of 10, he seemed to have… given up. That’s Tommy’s guess. He already knew he took after his mum, a black haired woman that only existed in photographs and dreams. Being powerless too was just the icing on the cake.
It wasn’t that Phil was a bad dad or anything. He just chose not to be Tommy’s. Phil chose to not include him on family bonding time, fought harder for Techno or Wilbur to stay than for Tommy to. He chose to become a superhero, the Number One, in fact. And he chose to bring Wilbur and Techno along with him. Leaving Tommy, an 11-year-old, home alone most evenings and nights.
So Tommy survived, like always.
Sam’s triumphant noise brought him back to reality. The game he was crudely trying to make, ran. Not well, but better than he had hoped for.
“Great work otherwise, Toms, but the problem was that somehow a void character was inserted- probably something from the textures being copy-pasted-” Tommy zoned out after that, warmth radiating from the hand on his head, ruffling his hair. Sam was proud of him.
He wished he had a father like Sam.
That train of thought was abruptly interrupted by the bell, and Sam groaned. He had only just gotten it working too.
Tommy slept through his next period, English with Mr. Grian, and was only awakened by him shaking his shoulders.
“Are you alright, Tommy? You haven’t seemed well at all the past few lessons.” Grian was a kind, if eccentric man. He wore a red sweater, emblazoned with a parrot on it, and once tried to blow up the cafeteria on a student dare. “Should I call Mr. Minecraft?”
“No, no, big man, I’m tip top! You see, I’m tired from getting all the women every night,” Tommy tried to wink but the sleep crusted along his eye made it look like an aggressive bout of pinkeye. Grian’s mouth twitched. His sweater was rolled up to his elbows, and Tommy could see the crisscross scar marks on his wrists. Parts of them seemed… methodical. Not as in self harm- though others seemed to have that origin. But others seemed to form patterns, like a crude warning sign, or an eye being crossed out. The most obvious one being the cross on the back of his hands, that was even from all angles. It was intentional, there was no doubt about that.
Tommy was not stupid enough to ask about it. He liked Mr. Grian. He also liked lunch, as he realized that class was over. That meant meatballs in the cafeteria. Grian’s parrot wings fluttered as he turned back to his desk, but by the time he went to speak again, Tommy was already halfway out the door. He yelled a ‘stay safe’ after Tommy, and turned to pack up his things.
Tommy spent his lunch alone. Tubbo, a master manipulator over any type of technology, and Ranboo, the Hero Force’s only method of Teleportation had been whisked away by the government to begin their training program immediately after their powers had been discovered the year prior. It was a mystery that they could hide it for so long in the first place, but after 6 or so years, they both got caught.
It didn’t mean too much, the program just replaced school and taught them about… whatever Heroes get taught. Tommy didn’t ask. He was just bitter that he now had no school friends. And his only two friends reported to Phil as their boss. Gross.
Tommy scoffed down the meatballs, as chalky as they tasted, and made the mad dash to the library. The librarian, Eret, was a part time hero and loved him. Or was nice to him because Phil was his boss. One of the two.
He liked to think that he wasn’t as much of a pain as Techno made him out to be.
Tommy greeted Eret, who smiled and then turned back to her book as Tommy made his way through the paper tombs. He pulled out the book he was supposed to be reading for English, Swallow My Angels, which was a bit of a depressing read. It was about the death of the biggest unpowered activist, Kristin Minecraft. His mother.
On second thought, maybe he didn’t like Mr. Grian as much.
He knew it was the government that created the syllabus but shit, could he take a fucking break? It was easier to get mad at the face of his teacher than the entity that masqueraded itself as the government.
This sounded suspiciously anti-capitalist of him. He could feel Karl Marx smile down on him. Maybe he should become a communist.
That would upset Techno.
He should become a communist.
The lunch break passed as he skimmed the book, barely processing anything. It was fine, if Mr. Grian got angry about it he could always play the Dead Mum Card.
It was worth a shot.
He went to his next class and slept through that as well. He was good at Art; he could bullshit his way through that. Mr. Jumbo let him sleep every class, let Tommy rant about his disdain for Phil and in return Mr. Jumbo talked about his hatred of most heroes. Mr. Jumbo was a stoutly man who was one of the only people in the world to legally own redstone. It was a controlled substance, one that was used within potions and explosives and everything outlawed. Although, judging by the almost paint-like splatters on Mr. Jumbo’s button up, he just used it for art. Tommy hoped his teacher wasn’t a terrorist or a drug dealer in his spare time.
He darted out of class as soon as the bell rang, sprinting to the entrance of the school. On Tuesdays, Wilbur picked him up from school- one of the rare times he spent alone with the lanky bastard.
And his car wasn’t there.
Tommy’s phone buzzed, it was Wil. He had sent a text, can’t pick you up today, work emergency. At the same time, he got a notification saying that the villain Dream was fighting Phantom after a robbery gone wrong.
Sounds about right.
Tommy wished he was powered, wished he could live like Wilbur and Techno. Maybe then they could finally feel like a real family. It was alright, Tommy was a big man who could walk home. It was only half an hour, plus there was a house with really cute cats.
Tommy wasn’t so lucky as he felt an arm loop around him, one of Dream’s many apparitions.
Dream was a hero-turned-villain, and he used to be Number One. His power was confusing and partially unknown, but everybody knew that he could create clones of himself- Tommy was just unfortunate enough to have been on Dream’s good side.
“Fuck off, bitch,” Tommy really was the height of hospitableness.
“I’m walking you home, Tommy.” The clone ignored Tommy’s disgruntled attempts to get it off of him.
“What do you want from me?”
“To be safe because your brother isn’t ensuring that,” Dream had had a fascination with Tommy, hell-bent on one day having Tommy join the villains’ side.
His entire family was superheroes, it wasn’t going to happen.
But Dream persisted, and Tommy had grown used to the masked figure.
“We’re taking a left, Wilbur and I are fighting up Squid Street.”
“It’s creepy how you report in on yourself, you know that, big man?” Tommy could hear Wilbur trying to charmspeak the other Dream while being thrown into a building.
“It’s a hive mind, Tommy. We’re like bees.”
“Still creepy.”
After a long walk, though it felt like an unnaturally quick amount of time, Tommy came face to face with his house. He looked around, Dream nowhere to be found. Tommy figured he had merged back into the original Dream.
The neighbourhood he lived in, L’manburg, was one of those overly rich ones, with neatly trimmed gardens and expensive doorknobs. The rich pricks had robbed the rest of the SMP blind, with Pogtopia, Snowchester and other areas being significantly poorer. And although he was a resident to L’manburg, he hated what they did to the rest of the country.
Tommy was always down for a little bit of theft.
Especially if it involved visiting the quaint pawn shop in Pogtopia, an area where slums reigned supreme. Nobody would blink at solid gold doorknobs being pawned off.
On second thought, he might have had a clue why Dream wanted to recruit him.
As Tommy toed his shoes off in the doorway, he faced the empty house and grinned. He had a plan for crime and no one would be around to stop him.