Hello! Have I just started another WIP fanfic? Yes. Yes, I have. This one is a tad easier to write though, because I have school and since I have based this mostly on irl situations, it's much easier to write! I am also sorta experiencing writer's block as well but the other fanfics should be updated soon! :D

Enjoy!

*runs*

(Titles are the lyrics to 'Where does love live?' by Michalis Hatzigiannis)

*

Ranboo hates mornings.

Monday mornings especially.

The start of the week just has something that triggers the unhappy hormones in his brain and makes the soreness in his very old (not very old) bones excruciatingly painful. Really, he feels like he might die; flop on the earth and splutter like a fish out of water and eventually have crosses for eyes.

Like, all his bones start aching the moment the clock strikes midnight on Sunday and it's awful. It's like he is Cinderella at the grand palace one moment, and a beaten ragdoll the next.

It must have to do with the fact that he has work on Monday mornings, y'know? Actually, he works all days of the week, excluding the weekend. Blessed be the weekend. He is technically unemployed -a minor, in fact- but still! He works part-time, with no contract, money as black as coal, and he likes to think that he has a normal partnership with the pawn shop owner.

Okay, maybe he doesn't grasp the exact concept of the word 'partnership' but he brings the guy tons of stuff a week! That has to be a sort of partnership, right?

And hey, the bills have to be paid somehow, unless he wants him and his roommates to be booted out of the attic room of the block of flats they've been renting for nearly a year. Either that or never have a normal shower or a warm meal ever again.

Plus, the other residents are rather nice, Ranboo likes them and he sure as Hell doesn't want to be evicted because of something as small as rent.

He really does feel like he is going to die, though. A very slow, very painful death while he waves goodbye to this very, very cruel world -and not because it's a Monday.

Why is he running again?

He hadn't done his morning stretches this morning, he was not prepared for a long, fast-paced jogging session on the very crooked pavement of the outer city either. Jogging wasn't exactly the activity he had gone out for, that much he can tell. He had only put on his two-toned mask and sunglasses (what he likes to call his work clothes) and left the building. Hadn't he gone out on a 'shopping' spree? Did he break something again?

He barely dips his head as the blade of a thrown axe misses his face by a millimeter and gets stuck on the side of a building with a loud crack. Oh, he remembers now! And his stomach flips for the... fifth? sixth? -he stopped keeping track after the third flip- time today.

He is so screwed, he'll be lucky to make it back alive!

Look, running from a top-ten ranking hero so early in the day was not something that Ranboo had expected nor had wanted to do today! Why he forgot such a jarring detail in the middle of his little escape is entirely beyond him as well. He hadn't expected to be running away from anyone, actually!

Well, at least, in the crowded sidewalk, he had believed that he would make it out without as much as a scratch!

That theory came out false, obviously. Ranboo can't exactly blend in with normal people. Normal people aren't as tall as the freaking streetlights, they don't have curved horns, their skin is not split down the middle -head to toe- like a ying-yang, and they surely don't have a tufted tail protruding from their butt, swishing back and forth with seemingly no control over it!

So, yeah, he can't exactly, 'magically', disappear, can he?

And he can't exactly understand how he even managed to get into this predicament, really.

He had just been minding his own business: walking along the street, looking over stalls and stands of jewelry, perhaps some unsupervised section of a bakery for bread, and spying for wallets in the back pockets of people's jeans as per usual -nothing out of the ordinary, really- and then he had bumped into the legend, The Blade himself! His idol!

Or rather, his hand had dived into the hero's back pocket before he had realized who he was stealing from.

Oops...

Ranboo still doesn't know how he didn't see the Hero in the middle of that fan circle, signing T-shirts and hats and taking pictures and whatnot.

Had he been caught on camera too? Nah, he was behind the man, hidden by the cape (how did he not recognize the cape?! He'll blame it on the shiny, golden wallet in the dude's pocket), and he's pretty sure The Blade noticed him simply because he had tugged too hard on the phone and wallet.

Under different circumstances, Ranboo would have been fanboying like a five-year-old, like any other normal individual on the street. He would be taking pictures without asking for permission first; he would be jumping up and down like an excited toddler; he would probably text or phone his friends about the encounter (if he had a phone anyway), before finally working up the courage to ask for a group photo or for The Blade's signature right on his forehead. And he would probably faint from excitement right after- and oh God, the Hero would have to give him CPR, holy, even mouth to mouth because he would forget how to breathe-

Okay, enough hero-saving-the-damsel-in-distress scenarios.

But seriously, wouldn't that be amazing?! Not the fading part- the one where he saves him! Wouldn't that be a dream come true-

He's been a Blade fan for what? Five years now? He remembers hearing about The Blade and these unbelievable actions of courage of his since he was eight or nine. And, as an impressionable teenager in search of a father figure, he picked the oblivious hero as his dad. Along the way, he even picked up the hero's monotonous drawl and everything!

All that and he doesn't even have a piece of Blade merchandise. For shame.

Anyways.

Normally, he would be so happy to just be in the near vicinity of the stoic Hero, who spends ninety percent of his time chasing down criminals and the other ten percent doing fanservice! Honest! He wouldn't be running like a chicken with its head cut off, dodging thrown weapons that somehow miss his head and back (he is a pretty clear target as a practical giant) -and it must be his hoodie doing all the work (it's his favorite; favorite clothes are lucky, aren't they?).

Did he mention that he is not normal, though?

Yeah.

On top of all that, he hasn't accomplished a single thing of importance yet! He can't die now!

What's he gonna brag about in the afterlife? About the plastic ducks he has in the bathroom? The toothbrush he has chopped and diced into a makeshift lockpick? Or the fact that he had pissed off a hero to the point where his body got dumped in a ditch, still single and very not ready to mingle?

Ranboo still isn't sure if the bloodthirsty hero missed that axe throw by accident or not. He did get a nick on the shoulder from it as it was recalled by an unseen force, though, so most likely by accident -a miscalculated throw if you will.

Man, The Blade is so awesome. Weird to say that as he is being chased by said hero, isn't it? If Ranboo wasn't in a fight or flight situation, he would have probably minded more about that.

The next axe throw passes right above his head, and Ranboo can almost feel the netherite blade shear some of his hair off as if he were a sheep.

He is so dead. Super dead if he is allowed to exaggerate a little bit... is it an exaggeration if it is basically the truth, though? Eh, that's a question for another day. A day when he won't be running from a to-be public executioner, when he won't be thinking of which alley to take to continue his escape route (thankfully the dead ends in the city are very rare and cautioned by street signs) without getting absolutely lost in the process.

Then again, it would be an honor to die at The Blade's hands, wouldn't it? Perhaps he could ask for an autograph as his dying wish. He'll ask for it to be written in sharpie on his forearm and then show it off to Saint Peter before he passes through the gate; that sounds like a good idea. Maybe death or a close call will scare the shy out of him, y'know? Finally make his brain understand that he shouldn't be embarrassed about asking a hero for an autograph -it's literally in the job description for heroes to sign stuff, for God's sake! Heck, The Blade had been signing a kid's cap before he noticed Ranboo's sneaky hand!

But Ranboo really doubts it will. He has had one too many close calls in the past (not that he remembers much of any other than his friends shouting at him for his idiocy) and it hasn't done anything to him; hasn't even traumatized him or scarred him for life!- nevermind, it probably has; the memory gaps can't be explained otherwise.

Then again, if he did die, Tommy and Tubbo (the most horrible thieves in existence and -sadly or not- his roommates and best friends for life) would either starve to death or live on the street for the rest of their lives. The two had almost gotten them all caught the last time they went on a stealing spree because they were obnoxiously loud (as per usual) and too obvious with their hands when they tried to sneak candy into their pockets.

Yes, they were trying to satiate their sweet tooths that day.

Oh, and let's not forget that one time that Tubbo had posed as a suicide bomber in a bank just so he could see why suicide bombers did what they did (the volunteering ones). That had been a fun day. Yes, especially when Tommy and Ranboo had spent about two hours trying to explain their friend's antics and that the bomb was totally plastic to the Crowfather of all heroes!

How had Tubbo gotten that boomb anyway? Ranboo doesn't remember having metal scraps and gunpowder in the attic.

Or that other time when Tommy had tried to mug a mugger in an alley, in the middle of the day. Yes, you read that right. The guy was a mugger, already mugging a poor lad in that alley with a pocket knife and Tommy had decided that he had to go all rabid racoon on the guy.

That had not been a fun experience, especially when Ranboo and Tubbo had to drag him away before a hero could notice the mauled man in the alley.

Yes, mauled.

It's safe to say that his best friends are more of a safety hazard to everyone around them (except Ranboo, of course, he knows their triggers and cues like the back of his hand) than thieves, which is why Ranboo is the only one out and about poking through pockets.

So, nope! No, sir! For the two most chaotic individuals in his life, he refuses to die today! Otherwise, he might just go crazy and annoy all angels and devils with his worrying in both Heaven and Hell.

A little weird though, isn't it? For a hero to be going after the thrill of the chase (and kill) rather than the safety of innocent people? Ranboo knows all that The Blade does; he is, as mentioned, a very dedicated fan, and he really doesn't want to get beaten into a pulp before being thrown in juvie jail for twenty years. He doesn't want to end up in jail at all, actually, there isn't much he misses from the city -free Healthcare, for example! He often hears on the news that it isn't free in other countries and that people commit petty crimes to get in jail for it.

Ranboo is very aware of The Blade's apprehension protocol and it is not at all reassuring. He would prefer to keep all his limbs attached to his body even in death, thank you.

Let's just say that Ranboo will need that free healthcare if the hero gets his way.

He dares a glance over his shoulder and his breath hitches at the empty yet angry glare he receives from the boar skull mask of the hero. His ears twitch at the loud growl he hears, and it seems like The Blade has picked up speed. Yup, he shouldn't have done that. He really shouldn't have done that, oh God-

Ranboo knows for a fact that the hero can run faster than that. Heck, he has seen videos of the man running on all fours and catching up to criminals in literal seconds! He should be just trying to play with his food right now, playing a game of tag for the fun of it. Much like a cat rather than a- well- a pig. That's The Blade's whole shtick, y'know?

Ranboo used to like tag; he really dislikes it right now.

All will be good in the end though, right? He is the main character of his story, he is not going to go down at the hands of his idol of all people!

Yeah, everything will be alright, he swears to the universe that he will not steal from the supermarket for a week -a whole week! It's a death sentence, really!- if he doesn't get caught today. You see, the supermarket is a big issue; groceries and transporting food items is a big issue in general, actually. Everything is overpriced and the stalls at the weekly market (where it's cheap and much more fresh) don't have fruits and veggies packed in bags! And he can't exactly grab ten apples, shove them in his pocket and run away like a clothed raspberry, can he?

Oh, and would you look at that! There's his escape route!

Ranboo dips into the alley right as a sword thrusts into the spot he was in just a moment ago, wonders for a moment if it stabbed a pedestrian instead, and after there are only screams of terror and not pain (he can differentiate those pretty well), he proceeds to dive behind a dumpster and some misplaced trash bags. Why are there even trash cans and trash bags there? Isn't that like, illegal?

Well. it's not Ranboo's problem, now, is it?

And man that hoodie must be a real lucky charm, because he finds a set of diamond earrings just sitting there, buried under a trash can he pushed over in his rush. Bless the dude who threw it in the red bin that day.

Pocketing them, he stands, checks his surroundings and when he only sees just a cat chasing a mouse in the corner, he uses his very origin to his advantage. If it wasn't apparent by the horns and the black side of his skin, Ranboo is an enderborn (or part enderborn, he still doesn't know why half his body is basically albino) and he can teleport!

As Tommy would say: how poggers is that?!

Purple particles -little whispers- surround him before he fizzles out of existence, surely leaving behind a very confused hero and a few frightened street cats. He was not about to teleport in the light of day and reveal his powers to The Blade and by default, to everyone around! He does not want to out his Vigilante persona, Endwalker, for a very, very long time. It is safer to risk running into a back alley fight or a stabbing -same thing- than it is teleporting on the sidewalk.

Wait, he didn't mention being a vigilante before, huh. Oh well, the cat is out of the bag now, won't be taking anything back.

Because, as much as he is proud of his work as the very infamous, teleporting, Slenderman person on the rooftops of buildings, catching bad guys and throwing cool catchphrases like Batman, being a vigilante is very much illegal. Jail time worth of illegal, actually. He doesn't know why it's illegal but laws are laws and he does not follow (nor know) most of them. He mainly (and unknowingly) commits tax fraud and that's maybe the most innocent thing he does in today's society.

So, yeah, he would really rather be free than be tracked down and stuck in a gray, mundane building with murderers and wrong doers (of which some had been handed in by him) and who knows what else! And he is pretty sure that he is the only person who can teleport in the city of Esempe.

The only unregistered person with teleporting powers, might I add.

Neat, isn't it?

It really isn't, because he can't teleport in public and make stealing a thousand times easier. There are already a few speculators making up theories of whether that purple smoke is a smoke bomb or just something that comes with his ability. Getting caught on camera and probing some scientist kid right isn't exactly on his to-do list.

So thievery remains time consuming and exhausting.

Perhaps, he could turn Endwalker into a part-time villain; then he could be time efficient and exhausted. Then he could rob a bank and be set for life, take Tommy and Tubbo and go live in the Bahamas or something.

Are the Bahamas even worth living in permanently? Maybe Miami would be better.

Speaking of stealing, Ranboo looks down at today's haul. Glittery necklaces and bracelets hang from his pockets, courtesy of that one Pandora establishment. The employee had chased him for a whole block before inevitably giving up. That had not been fun.

He has a couple of phones in the badly-sewn-on inside pockets of his hoodie, a couple of wallets to go along with them too, and he will forever be thankful for the idiocy of high schoolers for putting said phones in the back pockets of their trousers.

Huh.

How did he not drop a single thing on that chase? He must be getting better or something... or his hoodie is just too good, too good for even the universe to handle. Ha.

Yeah, his hoodie luck is too good, because usually he is a clumsy mess of long limbs and fumbling fingers -with too many documented accounts to count on ten fingers and ten toes. There has never been a time before (that he remembers anyway) when he hasn't dropped a thing. He has always dropped something, like a penny or a credit card (and the latter isn't as bad as it sounds, because he doesn't know how to use one so it may as well be a useless piece of plastic). Sometimes he even looks like a cartoon thief when the jewelry just doesn't want to cooperate and just flies out of his pockets while he's on the run.

Anyway, the point here is that he has to buy his food for a week now, because dammit, Ranboo keeps his promises! He has been keeping his promises ever since he heard The Blade speak about the subject of favors on some morning talk show he'd seen on the screens of the electronic shop downtown.

Ranboo really hates the hero now. Darn Blade and his godly righteousness! Or, well, it's not really hate, just the heat of the moment, y'know? He could never bring himself to hate The Blade -that would be a sin in and of itself.

Moving on.

As much as he hates to admit it, the phones he now has in his possession won't sell for a lot as second-hand and the money from the little jewelry he managed to snatch will go towards rent and heating and to whatever else the building administrator asks of them this month. Again, not even the jewelry will sell for much because the pawn shop owner dislikes Pandora with an incomprehensible passion. It's like the man has some personal grudge against the very founder of the brand and it's really nonpractical! He always complains when Ranboo brings in pieces with the Pandora brand on the back. It's crazy -unreal even- but sadly, it's the truth.

The guy refuses to buy Pandora pieces for more than five euros each.

And the only jewelry shops with low security are the Pandora ones. For some reason.

And Ranboo doesn't want to go looking for a new pawn shop now that he is on good terms with the old man.

Sigh.

Maybe they can go without electricity this month actually. Yeah, that would make not starving to death a lot easier and the money spending more manageable. Ranboo is okay with that. No light, no stove and no cooking. He isn't sure if Tubbo and Tommy will be as happy as him with only cereal and Starbucks snacks for breakfast, lunch and dinner but he can hardly say that he cares.

Actually, he does care but won't tell anyone that. He can't bear the disappointed faces of his friends when he is supposed to be bringing home the bread.

Having no working stove is fine by him; he is a horrid cook and too much of a kitchen scientist. Somehow, everything edible he makes turns out looking finger-lickin' good and simultaneously promising to make your stomach explode. Not fun. And he is somehow immune to the gunpowder that is his cooking, in contrast to Tubbo and Tommy who always fold in two and hold their stomachs in pain after only a spoonful of a simple soup. And he always receives these angry, betrayed glares, I mean, come on, it's not that bad.

He hasn't cooked in three years now (he is only allowed in the kitchen when the food he makes is a trusted recipe that will not lead to food poisoning -which they have no idea how to treat by the way) but he knows that his brain can (and will) come up with something able to kill God Himself if he really tried. Because as one grows so does their special talent, right? And apparently Ranboo's special talent is making explosive food.

And how difficult could food poisoning God really be?

...Perhaps he should give cooking another go at some point. Maybe Tubbo would find a way to make Ranboo's food into real-life bombs. When the fridge has more than a carton of (spoiled) milk and an untouched cabbage in it, maybe he will make a cake.

Why do they even own a cabbage? None of them so much as near greens. Wait, let's rephrase that: none out of the two most normal of the household so much as near greens. Tubbo is weird enough to eat cabbages -he is the type of kid to dip a carrot in a jar of Nutella and then eat it... that honestly doesn't sound that bad.

Huh.

Chocolate carrots.

Perhaps Ranboo could prank Tommy with chocolate carrots.

He looks around at the four walls surrounding him -it's their little attic apartment thankfully, and not some stranger's house again; that would have been embarrassing. He lays out his goods on the very small and for some reason smelly coffee table-

Listen, they had dragged that thing in from outside, none of them know what those stains on the wood are nor how to get them out! The three of them have tried everything; from scrubbing the stains of the unknown substance out with a paper towel to spraying it with cheap cleaning spray. Nothing has worked, so they have left it like that.

It's not like they haven't gotten used to the smell, anyway.

He still paces the backs of trash cans for discarded, non-smelly coffee tables whenever he is out and about, though.

Sifting through the many phones, he finds an iPhone in a pink, ornate flip case. No way. No. Freaking. Way. Now this will sell well in the back alley! A couple hundred at least! Bless his hoodie for its luck is too much for a single universe to handle. He can buy food and pay all their bills with this!

He has to tell Tubbo and Tommy about this! Perhaps he can have a small party with them because of this treasure of a phone. Oh, Mondays have never been so heavenly! And they say that money "can't buy happiness" or something like that; rich snobs and their angsty-ness and their monologues. Blegh.

But now, the two are working. He has to wait a couple more hours for them to return. Again, they don't have as much luck in stealing as he does because they are too loud to sneak away from the scene of the crime unnoticed and usually they get more than one person on their tails. Many were the times they tried and failed, and Ranboo had to drag them into many alleys to teleport them back home before any heroes could get to them first.

So, their work doesn't pay much. Ranboo tries his best to pay for everything this way, and they bring back whatever they can, really.

And normally he would complain, because the other two spend too much time out in the beating sun and he is pretty sure one (or both) of them will die of a heat stroke at some point. But today, he tells himself that he won't be all over them like a mother hen because he is in a good mood. Surely, once he gets to tell them the good news, they'll be just as excited as him.

He sighs. Nothing else to do other than to go pawn off the little treasures and head down to Stress' for lunch.

*

Working is not poggers. That is the conclusion which Tommy has come to. He hates working; he hates the sun; he hates the little shadow there is left as said star is currently in the center of the sky, at a 90 degree angle, boiling their brains like they're eggs in a pot of scalding water. Even though it's not his turn to grab the washing broom and do the real work yet, he groans.

One, he is absolutely bored and two, he would really much prefer to be running from the cops than having to sit on the hot ass brick sidewalk for ten hours. Yes, he gets up to stretch his legs every now and again -when it's his turn with the mop- but he still sits and the brick is hotter than fucking fire. Just, how is he supposed to sit there and not complain? How? He has all the right in the world to complain actually.

Why did they have to pick the sea side road to clean cars again? It had been Tubbo's idea if he remembers correctly. Something about the seaside street being way busier, cops-free and more traffic-heavy than the districts downtown.

But the brick isn't the only issue. Their water bottles they'd been taking little, tiny sips from are nearly drained dry and the bucket of soap water beside him is almost empty. He looks at Tubbo, who is currently taking advantage of the red light, cleaning the windshield of the stopped car at the front of the line and the many other helpless cars' that are left to the broom's mercy.

Though it isn't exactly a broom, is it? It's a windshield cleaner -or something like that. It's a weird looking broom, and they clean said windows with it... it's a crossbreed between a mop and a brook- there.

If Tommy cared more, he would snicker and cackle at the driver's misery, but alas, he could care less about the rich asses that can afford whole cars.

Rarely does anyone pay them for the free cleaning service, and when they do, it's normally coins or a couple pennies that they want to get rid of, nothing big. Tommy often gets angry at that but he is a natural at putting on fake smiles. Like, what are they supposed to do with a penny?! Tommy remembers a coworker of theirs who had moved to another street some time ago, who had told them that a couple years ago, the drivers had to pay them by the word of law. And it's really unfair, isn't it? Because- why can't it be the same now? It would save them all the trouble, and the two of them wouldn't have to buy as much dish soap as they do nor stay in the glaring sun for ten hours straight.

Tubbo runs back with a pep in his step this time, not the usual defeated walk both him and Tommy are used to doing. So, it's not that weird when Tommy raises his eyebrow at the other boy and stands up expectantly, fluffy, raccoon tail swishing behind him in nervous excitement.

Tubbo holds a whole five euro banknote in his hand. They grin. There is so much they can do with that!

They can lure some greedy wrong'un down an alley and perform a flawless mugging for starters! They could double or triple their profits just like that: by snatching their victim's wallet! Tommy's scruffy tail swishes back and forth at the thought and he rubs his hands together evilly like a lil' cartoon villain.

Yes, that is a very great and very sensible idea!

"You wanna lure old men down the drug alleys, Tubso?", he asks but he doesn't really have to. The other is buzzing with excitement already and in a second, he is being half-dragged-half-led to the opposite street with the big buildings and shit.

The crossbreed-broom and empty bucket are left on the pavement, in the middle of the street, long forgotten in favor of actual money. And flawless robbery. Time to play thief!

Tommy will just have to make sure not to bite someone's jugular this time.

"Waaay ahead of you, big man!", Tubbo grins as he picks off a loose thread from his dirty, green shirt. He uses his stingers (fingernails, Tommy would correct him, but he actually values his life -as much as Ranboo doubts it- to do so) to prick a hole in the paper and before long, they have cast their line and are waiting for their unfortunate victim to bite.

Sure, what they are about to do is morally wrong and very against the usual Vigilante code. They are supposed to protect civilians from the bad guys, not be the bad guts but hey, who's gonna stop them? Ranboo is far, far away to yank them home by the ears, most likely already back home and waiting for them at Stress'. They can do anything they want and he won't be able to do shit about it. Ha.

Right now, they are the civilians, the other vigilantes can worry about the people they'll lure into the alley today. In the middle of the day. Tommy cackles. Who cares though? There are no vigilantes during the daytime! They'll get away with it! Holy, there is a ninety-nine percent chance they'll get away with mugging people!

There is a tug at the end of the line. Oh God, they are about to mug a person!

Is this what Ranboo does when he is out and about being a wrong'un? If so, that bastard has been keeping them from all the fun! But Tommy can't exactly be mad -he really wants to be mad- because they get caught instantly under normal circumstances.

Then there is another tug, and then another...

Tommy realizes that it is just people stepping and dragging the bill around. Fuck them for walking and giving him hope!

"I don't think people are interested in a five note", Tubbo grumbles and damn it, he can't stand that pout he pulls! Tommy huffs stubbornly and crosses his arms.

"Just you wait, some idiot is gonna fall for it eventually", if anything had stuck to him through watching Ranboo pick candy canes off shelves, it's that patience is key. Always has been and always will be, apparently.

Tubbo opens his mouth but then the makeshift cord is almost yanked out of his hands. They both scream, they both almost fall over in an attempt to grasp the string. The attempt is futile.

"Uh, are the two of you okay?", it's some random man with a stupid orange and red balaclava, who has been successfully lured right into their trap! Yep! They obviously didn't almost lose their bait!

Tommy can barely believe it, as he is awestruck when he sees the outline of a wallet in the dude's pants. And boy, does it look thick.

Tubbo is much quicker than him, translucent wings buzzing as he launches himself off the ground with surprising speed. Usually, the short brunet is not this fast. But hey, they are really desperate for that wallet.

A man's gotta do what he's got to do, right? If he has to accelerate his speed like that then so be it.

"Get him!", he shouts, and Tommy is scrambling to his feet, furry, little ears twitching up as he runs at the man.

"Got him!"

The man is underneath them after some more battle cries and a good minute of fighting and struggling. The two of them cackle, Tubbo having sat criss-crossed on the dude's back and Tommy looking through his clothes for more valuables. For as light as he looks,Tubbo is as heavy as a fucking boulder! Trust Tommy, you do not want to get tackled by Tubbo and then be used as a bed for eight hours.

"Alright, kids, you can let me go now!", the man says in a kind of awkward voice with an awkward kind of laugh. They glare at him. "Okay, shutting up it is"

That's more like it.

After dumping their victim in the dumpster (alive with just a few minor scratches that can definitely not be traced back to Tommy), all laughing and smiling like toddlers, they enter the normal streets again.

And, they would've gone back to their normal station on the sidewalk. Really, they would've... But, you see, there's this sudden inconvenience, per say-

"...Crowfather", Tommy almost swoons at the sight of his favorite hero. Even though the man had put a stop to his best friend's fun that one day at the bank, Tommy absolutely would kill to breathe the same air as the blond man!

The Crowfather is just that poggers, alright?

Without thinking, the teen takes a step forward, and then another, arms raising and doing grabby hands like a toddler. Tubbo is suddenly blocking his path, this very mature aura radiating off him.

...Since when was Tubbo mature? That never happens. Well, whatever, Tommy will ignore this clear sign of danger.

"Tubbo, I want an autograph!", he declares, furrowing his eyes at his friend.

"He almost arrested me!", Tubbo responds and- yeah, there isn't much Tommy can say to that, is there? Alright, switching over to plan B... Except, there is no plan B, fuck. Quick, Tommy, think!

Hmmmm....

Ah-ha!

"But Tubbooooo!", if his demands can't be met with words, they'll be met with puppy eyes. He makes his eyes go wide and pleading, slumps his back just slightly to be on eye level with the shorter boy.

Now, normally, Tubbo always falls for his Tommy's puppy eyes (Tommy has an eighty percent succession rate, Ranboo beating him with ninety-five-point-six percent) , excluding some instances-

"We need to return home before that guy escapes the trash can, Tommy!"

-quite like this one, where he just can't be arsed falling for Tommy's spectacular puppy eyes.

Well. Moving on to plan C it is! Exploiting Tubbo's one and only weakness -which may sound cruel, maybe a lil' low -because they're besties and all- but in this situation, it is necessary.

"Aw, come on man! You say you would rather run away if it was Warden standing there rather than getting his signature slapped on your wrist?"

Warden is Tubbo's favorite hero, quite how Crowfather is Tommy's and The Blade is Ranboo's. Their favorite heroes are their greatest and only known weakness (other than each other, of course) and Tommy makes sure to use that information to his advantage when his friends don't relent.

What does "relent" even mean? Note that one for Miss Cleo.

Tubbo gawks at him, mouth opening wide and a hand pressing to himself as if offended.

"That's a low blow, Tommy", Tubbo growls, his glaring eyes and buzzing wings promising hurt and revenge. Presumably in the form of pollen sneezes. "Low blow", he repeats.

Crap, that means double revenge! And that really isn't a good thing!

Well, at least Tommy got to have his hero's autograph before his untimely demise. That's super worth it.

"Do I know you from somewhere, mate?", Crowfather asks as he pulls a sharpie out of an inside pocket of his

Oh God, Tommy is about to faint. The Crowfather called him mate. Mate. He fucking greeted him, holy shit.

Tommy strangles his childish glee real fast, though. He is not about to embarrass himself in front of his childhood hero! Nooo, nah-ah, no thank you, sir.

Anyway, he can't let the man know why he thinks Tommy's face is familiar -especially with Tubbo being nearby (literally three steps behind Tommy because the brunet also wanted an autograph on his shoe. Yes, Tubbo is currently standing on one foot and actually balancing. Tubbo is just too OP, man).

"Maybe I was a victim from a villain attack?", he tries to suggest, a tad too late because the hero has spotted Tubbo.

And his face lights up in realization of all things. Well. There goes their little underground 'mission'.

"Oooh! I remember you two now", Crowfather exclaims with a hearty laugh. "I suppose I did save you from that villain attack"

Actually, Crowfather had only saved the innocent bystanders and Tubbo's many hostages inside the bank. Tommy and Ranboo had saved Tubbo the humiliation of being thrown behind bars at the young age of fourteen, and probably from being thrown into an orphanage after the cops figured out that he had no parents.

Though in theory, they can also take all the credit from the heroes (because they had dragged Tubbo out of the bank, who was still throwing weird passive-aggressive threats the banker's way), Tommy is too much of a Crowfather simp to care about that right.

"Here you go. Don't go scaring people again, alright?"

And with that, Tommy and Tubbo leave with a signed wrist and signed shoe.

*

When the two of them get back to the block of flats (having hidden their mop and bucket somewhere relatively safe), all excited and giddy about their encounter with Crowfather, they barely notice the moving boxes by the front doors of the mini lobby area.

They are so immersed in looking for little details in the sharpie signatures and figuring out schemes about how they could copy-paste the hero's autograph on clothes and make bank out of it, that they walk straight into a mouthful of red and blue feathers.

That quickly brings them back to reality.

Tommy yelps and rubs his face, Tubbo doing much the same but with the little twist of actually falling back from the bump. And the person with said feathers jumps, the boxes in his hands flying out of his hands. Something shatters- oh, one of the boxes had glasses, huh?

Well. That's awkward.

Can't really say that it has glasses in it now.

"Ah, what!", the person exclaims, feathers ruffling and spreading with a woosh. It's Grian, the very nice avian man from 2B.

The guy is like their personal bodyguard inside the building and in the neighborhood. He somehow always knows when they are up to something major, like planning on grabbing crayons and painting dicks on the sides of buildings or when Tubbo is experimenting with little mechanical things he'd found in the trash can by the school.

Grian always bursts into their little, cozy attic right before things can go terribly wrong. Like that one time Ranboo had wanted to cook dinner. Tommy is pretty sure Grian had been asleep at the time of the occasion, judging by how messed up his blond hair was, yet he ran up two floors -four sets of stairs, fifteen steps each- and then burst through the door with a shout of "NO, DON'T DO IT!!!".

It had been an eventful night that one, ending with a scolding and a very much grounded Ranboo. Which is weird, because Grian isn't Ranboo's parent, he is just their neighbor.

None of them question his fatherly nature and especially not his fatherly intuition. The last time they doubted the kindness of the man, they had ended up at his house, discussing renting the attic with the owner of the block of flats. Not to say that it had been a bad thing -that's the whole reason they have a roof over their heads now- but the avian had literally hunted them down, backed them into an alley, practically dragged them to his apartment and sat them in blankets with mugs of hot chocolate shoved in their hands for that convenient arrangement.

And, at this point, it's just the norm for Grian to know what they are up to. The trio's theory is that the avian has a sixth sense or something.

"Oh, hey Tommy and Tubbo!" Grian greets as he bends to pick up the fallen, heavy-looking boxes. "You're looking chipper today. Work went well, I'm guessing?"

"Oh, Hell yeah! We mugged a guy!"

"You did what-"

"Anyways!", Tubbo interrupts quickly, sensing the very long and very boring lecture parchment that the avian is about to unroll before them.

"No, no, Tubbo! We're not switching the topic here! You mugged someone?", to their surprise, Grian is grinning from ear to ear, looking like he is about to burst into numerous fits of giggles. Another thing that has become quite apparent to them recently is that said avian is a massive prankster and mischief harbinger.

"Uh... yeah, we did", Tubbo hesitantly admits because the fear of the unknown and the jittery nerves that expression brings is quite a rare thing. His wings buzz. Guess they still have sides of Grian to learn about.

Tommy holds up the stolen wallet right after Tubbo's confession, presenting the little trophy of their effort with pride and a puffed chest. His fluffy tail wags like a dog presenting a newly obtained bone to their owner.

"You better hide that before Stress sees it", Grian simply warns them, as if they hadn't mugged a guy in an alley and thrown him in a trash can full of smelly trash -not that they will ever mention that part, because maybe Grian will ground them both if they do.

Tubbo peers at the boxes in the avian's arms, examines the "FRAGILE" word on the side of some and the weird icons and arrows. His eyes light up, as he immediately realizes that there will be a new neighbor coming in to live in the building.Tommy also connects the dots rather fast and so, he picks up a box... only to realize it is like a hundred kilos and ultimately drops it. Grian cackles like a maniac.

"Jesus fucking Christ, what is in there?!", he shouts, taking a step back from the box.

"Probably potatoes if it's so heavy"

"Who is the new guy?", Tubbo asks with a mortified face. Tommy shares a similar look because- who in the fuck packs potatoes in moving boxes?!

"My very good friend, Mumbo!", Grian beams, signaling for the two of them to help with the lighter boxes. The duo lifts the smallest ones they can find in order to not have to carry the much heavier boxes of potatoes. "We managed to unload his stuff before any cars came by, and now he is circling the block to find a place to park his car"

In the end, Grian took the potatoes.

Tubbo and Tommy visibly wince at that. They might not own a car but they see the everyday struggle local drivers go through to find an available spot at the sidewalk, some even parking in the middle of streets or riding up the pavement. It's a real mess; it causes traffic issues, makes drivers go mad with the horn. They can only imagine that this Mumbo guy is going through the same thing -especially because parking in this neighborhood is completely out of the question.

"Anyway, are you two heading up now?", Grian asks, cocking his head much like a bird, as the three of them ascend to the second floor. The avian holds his box under one hand as he fishes the keys out of his jeans' pocket.

The two of them should really not be surprised at the morbid display or raw strength. That's the potato box, what- How can a man look normal and then hold a box weighing kilos like it's a mere ant?

They don't question it. This is Grian after all. The guy is full of surprises.

"I believe Ranboo is at Stress' for lunch. You should go join them", Grian continues, unlocking the door to his apartment with relative ease, "And tell him that the dust bath is ready and waiting for him, please"

The two of them nod quickly, carrying the boxes to the man's living room. Grian calling Ranboo down for dust baths is pretty much a normal occurrence. Happens two times a week, with either Grian coming up to the attic to collect the teen or Ranboo going down on his own. This happens because being an enderborn and water just don't mix. Water causes Ranboo's skin to become irritated or cause something like burns if it stays on him for too long -kind of like how ice starts to burn if left on human skin for too long. Cleo had called it an inherited allergy if Tommy remembers correctly.

So, when the avian took notice of Ranboo's origin, he had pulled the teen aside and taught him about dust baths.

Tommy and Tubbo are super jealous of Ranboo's dust privilege. Every time he returns from one he looks so relaxed and so ready to flop on the bed and sleep in for days.

"We'll tell him", Tubbo confirms. Tommy on the other hand...

"Do you know what Stress made for lunch?"

Stress is basically their adoptive mother, a very nice lady in 3A with the best cooking the three of them have ever tasted in their lives. She takes care of their laundry (more like begs them to change out of their dirty clothes at least once a week), calls them down for lunch on Mondays when she doesn't have work (and makes each one's favorite meal), helps them with the homework Cleo assigns them- she should be called the ultimate mother figure if anything.

All should bow down to her.

Grian barks out a laugh -not a surprised one, he had probably guessed that the question was coming sooner or later. Blame it on father instincts.

"I think she made spaghetti for Ranboo, roasted vegetables for Tubbo and fish and chips for you, Toms"

"Poggers!"

They may be poor, they may be living in a stinky attic and constantly refusing their neighbors' help (they have received ultimate kindness, they don't want to take advantage of these people -as much as Grian's other friend from 2A, Pearl, likes to say that they aren't taking advantage of anything), they may be living off thievery and illegally washing cars on the street, they may cause more chaos than peace when they are playing hero at night but-

But life is good.

=============

Oh yeah, benchtrio has never gone to school so Cleo is serving as their teacher in this story. I love mixing reality and fiction together so much.

This chapter has been beta read so many times that author gave up on beta reading in favor of sleeping. If you see any of the following: grammar mistakes, words that don't make sense in context, spelling mistakes, please contact the author and state where it is and author shall fix it asap (unless it's intended to be like that).

Was I just speaking in third person right there? Huh. Weird.