The longest fic I’ve managed yet. It may not be impressively long, but this is my parting gift.
Tommy’s been floating for a while.
His mind sort of… separated from his body a while ago. He’s still vaguely aware of the things outside happening, but the events slip away from his thoughts too quickly to be of consequence. So now he’s floating. It feels peaceful, a soft existence of nothing, with the occasional mindless thought rising to the surface before bobbing back down.
Pain is a constant, weaving up and down like waves on the beach.
The blank space in his mind shifts, turning on its head and swirling like cream and coffee, falling into a memory on the beach.
Nothing happens in the memory, but he can remember the sensations; the strong fishy smell, the warm setting sun, hot and crusty sand covering the soles of his feet. He can taste the salt in the air, and hear the sound of glistening waves crashing against the shoreline; it’s a fond memory, even if he can’t recall why anymore.
He can feel someone slap him. He’s ripped from the beach violently, subject to screaming, putrid anger in a voice. He knows the voices name, but there’s secret satisfaction in pretending he could ever forget.
He wishes he could forget.
He wishes he could forget a lot of things.
His heart leaps into his throat like a bullfrog, sudden and overwhelming emotions clogging his throat and strangling him; taking their chance and filling every orifice with how he feels about this whole situation, choking him out, until everything begins to—
It gently eases his shoulders into relaxing, opening his lungs and filling his mind with clouds. It feels like fraying cotton has replaced his thoughts, and he can’t get a grasp on them. If he tries, it falls away and becomes clouds, leaving moisture on his fingertips.
At the beginning, when he started drifting, he would use techniques to draw himself out. Twitching his fingers, pinching himself if his hands were free (which wasn’t often), or counting the sensations he could feel.
It would work too, and he would be Back, but being Back means he can feel things, and that’s enough to reel him away, into his floating land of nothing.
He ponders briefly, that if he were to ever be rescued, if his cloud palace would be a problem. Before everything- he rarely went into a state like this, and times that he did quickly slipped his memory, suppressed by his subconscious. It’s definitely not normal.
Would he be forced out, when going into states like this? Probably. If his knight in shining armor decides to offer help beyond his rescue, Tommy’s gonna request therapy. Lots of it. Daily therapy, even! He could get two therapists, and do twice as much therapy!
If he ever gets rescued, he’ll miss this cloud-like state. It’s been the only thing he can actually rely on in this hellish nightmare, with everything else tainted in uncertainly and distrust and pain.
There’s yelling in the real world, he acknowledges. Yelling that isn’t directed at him.
Yelling is familiar. The vibrations are unique to every person, reverberating through Tommy’s person and identifying it’s user, it’s anger, it’s desire.
Two people are yelling at each other. One is angry but desperate, always lilting at the end but harshly and solid.
The other is undeniably Him, colored in anger, betrayal; backdropped in stubbornness and refusal.
There’s explosions happening somewhere above him, and for the first time in forever, Tommy is tempted to come back to reality. Something is happening, something big. Curiosity burns in him, rising, bubbling- but his fear fights back, dragging the cotton blanket further over his thoughts, muting any curiosity (or fear).
He keeps drifting, letting thoughts become dust and fall from his grasp. Things are happening, but they aren’t happening to Tommy yet. He can stay under for a little longer.
The explosions are closer. The yelling has stopped.
Like a hot shower to a mirror, the imagery fogs. His eyes are open but he isn’t seeing.
Just a little while longer.
The yelling has started again, but it’s different. New people, and lots of them. The explosions are really close to Tommy now, it might be a problem soon.
He’s strapped to a chair anyway. If he wanted to run away, he couldn’t.
Time drifts for a second, tipping and throwing his perspective off. Everything feels— off. The cloud only makes it worse.
The yelling is a lot closer, close to his room. Yelling causes fights, and he can’t fight back. Everything is inevitable. He’s just a leaf floating on a pond, unable to stop the rocks that skip and create ripples, uncaring if Tommy’s leaf-y existence is thrown under the water and drowned.
He needs to leave, he needs to do something-
Fog over his thoughts, clouding them.
Clouds, cotton, sand on his soles and the warm setting sun on his face.
He exhales. Fuck, this is hopeless.
He inhales. The air tastes like concrete and ash.
There’s fighting, yelling, right in front of him. He exhales, and his chest feels sore with the action.
He inhales, lungs burning, mouth powdery and dry. His lips are cracked, and he can taste blood.
Yelling. There’s a guy- three guys-? Maybe more. There’s two women, and Tommy can remember his favorite joke about how many wives he has.
He exhales. There’s a hand touching his shoulder. Someone is talking to him, but he can’t hear them, he wish he-
He inhales. The fog scatters hesitantly, and he focuses on the yelling. Except there’s no more yelling, there’s only talking, voices-
His eyes focus. There’s cracked floor underneath him, his arms aren’t tied to the chair anymore, they feel rough and sore. He looks up. His hair falls into his face.
“-kid?” Oh that reminds Tommy of another joke. It would be really funny to use it now, actually. Tommy coughs, weak and dry. It does the job.
“… ‘m not’a kid.” He smiles, and he might just cry. What did he think earlier? A therapist?
The person in front of him- a woman with huge curly puffs of hair, white like sheeps wool with a rainbow streak in the front- huffs amusedly. “Okay not-kid, can you tell us your name?”
Tommy grins again, mischievous. “Nah,” he coughs out, “I’m too big’a man to go… tellin’ strangers m’ name.”
She smiles at that, and Tommy’s pretty impressed to see no trace of pity or sadness in her eyes. He most definitely looks like crap.
Her teammates show it for all its worth. For all that sheep-lady is doing, keeping her expression friendly, her companions aren’t keeping up the illusion. They look depressed, frankly. Maybe Tommy doesn’t need therapy, they look like they need it more than him.
“I guess I’ll call you big man! We’re gonna get you out of here, alright?“ She looks over her shoulder, “Songbird, you’re carrying him.”
Someone approaches from the group, and Tommy is- honestly astonished at his height. Even though Tommy is sitting down, ‘Songbird’ clearly towers over everyone in their little entourage.
He’s wearing a superhero suit, with a clear theme of grey and blue. His face is covered by a black masquerade mask, but it hardly matters because of his hat.
It reminds Tommy of a witches hat, if the witch had style and also lined the rim with a black mesh that draped over their face. The mesh covers most of the heroes upper half, and leaves a lot of his facial features to be desired. At that point, why even wear the masquerade mask?
Tommy lets himself be picked up, purely because he isn’t sure he can do more than move his head and twitch his fingers at the moment.
He stares up at the black mesh. He wants the masquerade mask from underneath. He can’t see it clearly from behind the mesh, and Tommy is sure that it looks cool.
“Big man?” He hears sheep-lady ask softly, but Tommy hasn’t had a goal in-
- so he’s going to achieve this one.
He glares up at the mask. He could just ask for it? Or would it be better to steal it quickly, in order to run away faster.
“Kid?- I mean, big man?” Songbird asks nervously. Good, nervousness will make it easier for Tommy. He should guilt Songbird into giving him the mask. Tommy looks all sad and shit right now anyway, it can’t be that hard.
Ugh. There’s gotta be a simpler way.
He huffs, knocking his head into Songbirds shoulder and burying his face into it. He wants the mask.
“What was that all about?” Songbird whispers harshly, and Tommy can thankfully read the situation well enough to know the question wasn’t directed at him.
“-it might be a trauma response? Judging your character?” Someone pipes in from the back.
“No one told me carrying this kid would become a pop quiz on my character!”
“Suck it, bitch boy.” Tommy grumbles, voice muffled by the heroes blue sweater. God, now he wants the mask and the sweater.
“You are just a chaotic little gremlin aren’t you?” The hero shifts his grip slightly, carrying Tommy closer to his chest.
He gasps indignantly, “I am not-“ he coughs, voice raspy, “-fucking little, you hear me?” He hits his forehead into Songbirds chest to prove a point.
“Oh I definitely hear you,” Tommy could hear the mischievous glint to Songbird’s voice from a mile away, “Tiny man.”
Tommy gasps again, shuffling in the heroes grip halfheartedly, “Oh I’ll show you who’s tiny, fuckin’ bitch boy-“
“Tiny itty bitty baby man~” he coos, and oh Tommy is going to rip this fucker a new one.
“No pestering the civilian Song.” A man chastises from the back, and Tommy strains his neck to see over Songbirds shoulder.
“Oh my god,” the hero wheezes, “you can bicker all you want at HQ I promise, but please focus on the mission for five seconds.” Tommy notes that the hero has a funny laugh. The man has a hat similar to Songbirds, but without the black mesh, and with a flat top. His face is all out in the open too! Not even a masquerade mask.
He’s got these weird green robes on, and his hat is green and white striped. Odd choice.
Tommy can’t help it when his brain fixates on the hat. It’s so- weird. So personalized, and it doesn’t even look strange on the hero! Tommy barely glanced at it, like it’s a normal fashion choice when he knows it’s not.
The hero notices Tommy’s look.
He wants the fucking hat. It’s a weird ass hat, but it’s weird in a good way and Tommy wants it.
He starts glaring without realizing, and his eyes trail the heroes hand as it uncomfortably runs along the rim of his hat. He has a nervous tick with the hat.
Tommy wants it even more.
“-Mate?” The cool-hat wearing hero asks.
He’s gonna ask for it. Tommy stops glaring immediately, decision made.
“Can I have your hat?” The hero stumbles, and starts doing his funny wheeze laugh.
“You- you want my hat? To have?”
Tommy tries to answer, but his voice gets stuck in his throat. He coughs, grumbling, before replying, “Preferably, yes.”
“It’s a weird hat.” He explains, like it answers everything; by the astonished look on the heroes face though, it didn’t. The hero doesn’t immediately respond, so he asks again. “Can I have it?”
“I- y’know what mate? Sure, you can have the hat.” The hero dips the hat into his hand, and Tommy watches it get closer and closer, until finally the hero plonks it on his head.
“You are the best,” Tommy says in utmost honesty, eyes wide as he stares at the hero whose name he doesn’t even know. “You are officially my favorite hero, the best one, number one. If people ask me for my favorite hero I will say your name.”
The hero grins, having caught onto Tommy’s foul play, “And my name is?”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “Big man’s favorite hero.” The hero wheezes, clapping his hands and bending over with a stupid grin on his face. “It’s probably a better name than what you used to have anyway, like green boi.”
The hero cackles loudly, hand outstretched to a nearby shoulder for stability as he doubles over. “Green boi-”
Tommy grins, heart alight with confidence.
Songbird whispers into his ear, grin prevalent in his voice, “His name is Philza Minecraft.”
Tommy gasps dramatically, whipping his head to look at Songbird bird before looking back at Philza Minecraft, his eyes reflecting nothing but of pure amazement.
“Philza Minecraft,” he whispers reverently. Philza cackles at the glimmer in Tommy’s eyes, and he could only relate it to a worshipper first meeting their god. That thought only sends him into another laughing fit.
“Big man.” Tommy corrects.
“Yes, big man, sorry.” A hero with green hair apologizes, “We’re almost to the surface of this whole facility, and we wanted to make sure you’re aware of what will happen when we get there.” Tommy nods. “When we get outside they’ll bring you to a group of other victims and start any immediate medical treatment, like disinfectant and wrapping up new wounds.
“Then, when we’re done clearing out the facility you’ll be brought to civilian med bay in HQ to treat any power induced injuries. They’ll ask a few questions, get your side of the story, and hopefully get you some connections to possible therapists.
“After that they’ll contact your parents or guardian, and you’ll be transported to a hospital closest to your living situation, and they’ll handle any long term injuries.” The hero smiles comfortingly.
Except there’s a big problem with that. Tommy doesn’t have parents, or a guardian, or a living situation. He’s been in the facility for a long time. Time moves strangely when you’re spaced out into oblivion, but Tommy knows it’s been a few months at least. The apartment he had has long since thrown all his shit out. Bet they didn’t even report him as missing, the bastards.
He hopes the cafe he used to work at noticed, at least. Niki was a good boss.
Songbird notices his uncertainty and squeezes his shoulder comfortingly. “Hey, it’ll be okay. We’ll get you home, yeah?”
He doesn’t have a home anymore.
His expression sours. He doesn’t have a home. He doesn’t have a job. He doesn’t have any money, or even his phone! He was emancipated many months ago, and within 3 months he got himself kidnapped, and now he’s lost everything he worked to get.
Tommy can’t say he’s surprised when the fog creeps into his mind, offering support, offering denial and safety in the ignorant.
His eyes unfocus, and the world around him slips away. The conversation melts into background noise. His aches become known again, but they’re easy to block out, and Tommy quickly finds himself surrounded in nothing.
Someone notices, and Tommy can feel pressure on his shoulder, a small shake, he can feel the vibration of words targeted towards him. They’re confused.
Tommy retreats further into the clouds. He’s used to anger, shouting; he’s used to blocking out sharp slaps and punches that crack on impact.
Somehow? Blocking out the gentle coaxes is harder. The finger tracing his palm is too vivid in his mind, in a way that makes him uncomfortable. He unconsciously starts frowning.
It’s usually easy to disappear.
This knowledge only prompts him to dive deeper into the soft haze, but finding no escape from the finger on his palm, or the calm voice, or the pressure on his shoulder or the hum that reverberates into Tommy’s mind and takes up all the space, when it’s supposed to be empty.
Tommy grumbles in frustration, flicking his finger to the side and discovering that it’s a lot easier than his previous attempts. All because of some heroes who don’t want him to disappear.
He hates it even more that flicking his finger earns him encouragement, praise even.
Someone is breathing deeply, and Tommy is suddenly very aware of this fact. Particularly because Tommy can feel himself rise and fall with it.
He reluctantly breathes in sync with who he can only assume is Songbird, unless he got swapped to someone else and didn’t notice. Which would normally be a huge possibility, but the constant gentle touches and humming have kept him aware enough to not slip completely.
He can smell the ash and dust lingering in the air, but he also detects the classic scent of cleanliness that the upper floors always held, kept that way to prevent infection in their “patients.” That’s just a fancy word for lab rat.
Exhaling reminds him of the rasp in his throat, along with the tickling urge to cough. That tickle triggers something in him, because he almost dives straight back into the clouds, never to be seen again. He didn’t of course, but mostly out of spite. Also because he’s almost definitely used up the heroes patience at this point.
It’s time to come back. Unfortunately.
He wiggles his fingers more, focusing onto the conversation that’s happening around him.
“-ight, you’re alright, no one is going to hurt you-“ Songbird comforts idly, and Tommy finally puts a name to the finger tracing culprit.
“You think it was something Sam said?” Philza Minecraft. Best man. Oh, Tommy still has his hat. Pog.
“I don’t think he said anything that could trigger it? Maybe he got himself worked up; I’ve heard of clients sending themselves into a dissociative state over picking an ice cream flavor. Some things are just unavoidable.” Sheep-lady counters.
“Yeah, you’re right. Hey Song! How’s the big man?” Songbird rubs a thumb over his shoulder, briefly sorting through the mess on Tommy’s head and-
He blinks. Songbird pauses, noting a sudden change. Except Tommy’s tempted to stay in this half-way point, just listening, he likes eavesdropping y’know-
He runs his hand through Tommy’s hair again. He blinks. Tommy’s hand twitches and a new kind of awareness is brought out. Confusion.
His eyebrows pinch, glowering. The fuck?
Songbird runs his hand through Tommy’s hair a third time and Tommy snaps out of it completely, looking up at the preposterous hero.
Songbird only smiles and waves, some sort of victory in his eyes. Mask? Dumb mask.
Tommy coughs, clearing the itch in his throat, before saying, “I want your mask.”
Songbird looks at him, dumbfounded. “What?”
“Give me your mask bitch boy.” Tommy frowns seriously. A serious frown.
Songbird laughs, “But- that holds my identity behind it! I need my identity big man.”
Tommy does his best to cross his arms while being held. “My identity now. I will be known as Songbird the more competent.”
“Uh huh,” the hero muses, tucking Tommy closer to his chest, as if saying ‘and whose the one holding who?’
“I will, you’ll see. They’ll look at me and go ‘oh that is one competent hero, the most competent in fact’ besides Philza Minecraft-“ he raises his voice an octave for the voice, but drops it low when mentioning Philza Minecraft, best of men.
“You-“ Songbird laughs, “are the strangest child I have ever rescued.”
Tommy gasps in betrayal, lips curling into an over exaggerated frown. “I AM NOT A-“ he chokes suddenly, descending into a fit of coughs that he struggles to get himself out of.
“Okay, I think it’s time we head back with the others now.” Tommy recovers, wincing from the ache in his chest but finally noticing that only Sheep-lady, Philza Minecraft, and Songbird are still with him.
The guilt of going into cloud-land hits him then. Ironically, it almost triggers another one. Thankfully by quickly digging his fingernails into his palm, he stops it.
Songbird stands up from where he had let Tommy partially splay on the floor while he visited cotton-ville, having no issue with carrying Tommy’s frail, food deprived form. Tommy would probably guess he’s easily lost a dozen or so pounds from this “trip.”
As they all make their way to the surface Tommy absolutely does not shuffle closer to the hero. Songbird just— has him in a position where being closer is more comfortable. Tommy is exploiting the hero. For comfort. It’s very evil, believe him.
Tommy is great at exploiting people.
A yawn stretches it’s way out of his throat.
Maybe he’ll exploit a nap out of this whole scenario. He deserves it.
Tommy presses further into Songbirds chest, suddenly drowsy with exhaustion, eyes flickering shut.
Wilbur glances down at the child he’s acquired, something warm snuggling into his heart as the kids eyes slip closed. Great, another person he’s grown annoyingly fond of who will disappear forever into the crowds of the city.
He sighs. Absolutely unfair, his job is. This gremlins parents are goddamn lucky. They’ll cry when they get him back, no doubt.
Phil peaks over his shoulder, having noticed Wil’s change in posture. Sure enough, the kid is sound asleep, tucked against the cities current #6 hero.
Phil frowns. He hadn’t known who Phil was, which is confusing because Phil has been popular in the media for at least six months. Unless, of course, the kid was trapped here for six months. But that’s actually impossible, the kid looked fine! He spaced out pretty bad in the middle, but that was it! No flinching, or objection to touch, or even abnormal mood swings! He only wanted Phil’s hat- for some reason. And Wil’s mask, which was weird.
He’s a cute kid, Phil admits. Not because he looked at Phil with that pure, unadulterated adoration- despite not knowing anything about Phil whatsoever. No, that’d be unreasonable, kids look at Phil like that all the time.
Something tugs on his heart, familiar but foreign. Phil can’t quite put his finger on it, and probably won’t figure it out for a long time. His wings shift on his back restlessly.
Techno puts his book down. There’s a kid in med bay next to him, which is weird because this is the hero med bay, heroes only, it’s a whole rule.
Techno pushes up his glasses, facing the kid. He’s got blonde hair, blue eyes, and a faraway look that just screams dissociation. Oh god, not only is a kid next to him, it’s a traumatized kid.
Techno debates helping the kid out of it- he has plenty of experience with Wilbur- but the nurse comes in and he decides against it. Not his problem.
The nurse looks at his notebook, then at the kid. He coughs into his fist- obviously trying to get his attention- which isn’t effective at all. He gives up and walks up to the kid, waving the pen in front of his face in that typical ‘follow the tip’ fashion, before deducing the kid isn’t gonna respond.
The nurse accidentally looks at Techno and- oh no, they’ve made eye contact. Now he’s gonna have to figure out which Social Rule applies to this situation.
A quick think and- okay, Technos got this.
He looks at the kid with a quirk of his eyebrow, and out of the corner of his eye he watches the nurse look at him too, before looking back at Techno. Techno, of course, perfectly times his glance to fall back on the nurse. In sync. Now, time to initiate…Conversation.
“Need help?” He asks. The nurse smiles gratefully.
“Yes, please. I’m not too good with kids- I’m better with superhero’s.” Techno hums in acknowledgment, and decides he has successfully Conversed with the nurse. That was a short conversation, but really, it was an intense battle of wits.
He stands up from his chair, making the short walk over to the kid before analyzing him.
It’s obviously dissociation, yes, but for what reason?
He takes the kids farthest hand and interlaces it with his own.
Nothing actively harmful is happening, so it might be a safety response to the new situation. Best thing to do is to make him feel as comfortable with the new environment as possible, but Techno can only do that when the kid is actually aware.
With the hand closest to Techno, he starts tracing intricate patterns on the palm, occasionally straying to the fingertips where he knows more nerves lie. His fingernails barely touch the kids skin, but he knows that the contrast between skin and fingernail is dramatic. He’s also had these moments before.
Techno watches the kids eyes dilate, noticing a new pinch in his eyebrows. The kids fingers’ twitch as Techno runs his finger over his pinky.
After a minute or so of this, the kid blinks. It’s a different blink than what he had been doing, looking less automatic and more willful.
Deciding the kid is present enough, he lets go of the kids farthest hand- continuing to trace with his other- and grabs the book he had been reading. The story of Prometheus.
Techno starts reading from the beginning, and ignores any sign of the kid coming back to reality.
Although he does notice the nurse step out of the room.
After a few minutes of reading out loud, he makes a break through. The kid coughs, harsh and dry. Techno offers him a water cup, and the kid takes it without a word.
Techno breathes. “It’s the story of Prometheus. I borrowed it from the library a few days ago.” He looks up at the kid, who is staring back with a curious look. “What is it?”
“Isn’t that a Greek story?” Techno nods dumbly. “I used to know an old lady who read those books too. She was nice.” Techno hums.
They fall into a brief silence that makes Techno frantically contemplate what question he could ask that would free him of the suffocating vacuum consuming their space. He then realizes, with nothing less than shame and embarrassment, what he should ask.
“So, what’s your name kid?”
The kid glares at him. “I’m not a kid.” He pauses. “Bitch.”
“Eloquent.” Techno comments passively. At least it isn’t quiet any more.
“The fuck does that word mean?”
“Oh.” he thinks, “It’s like… smooth. A way to say, ‘Well said.’”
“Well, I think it’s a dumb word.” They fall back into a silence, and Techno is sent back into a panic. Does he ask the question again? Does he wait for not-kid-kid to say something else? Does he start reading the book again?
The not-kid-kid answers it for him. “My uh… my name is Tommy. I- I haven’t told any of your other hero buddies yet, so you can’t go snitching on me- okay?”
Techno nods easily. Telling anyone the kids name wasn’t even on the forefront of his mind, so it was an unnecessary precaution on Tommy’s part. Still, Techno is nothing if not loyal to a fault.
The nurse peeks his head back in after a roughly 30 seconds, before entering the room completely when he sees Tommy up and aware. “Hello! I’m the nurse that will be overseeing your stay here, and you can call me Charger. What’s your name?”
“You have a dumb name.” Tommy says without skipping a beat. Charger hesitates, tapping his pen against the side of his clipboard nervously.
“Heh, well thanks- I guess. But- if you could tell me your name, that would be very appreciated.” Tommy continues staring at Nurse Charger blankly. The nurse sends a look at Techno, which prompts Tommy to give Techno A Look which roughly translates to, ‘don’t snitch or you’ll regret it.’
Of course, Techno just shrugs ignorantly. What? The kid asked him not to! When someone politely asks Techno to do or not to do something, Techno is Legally Obligated to keep his promise.
“Okay,” the nurse drawls, “Well, normally we can’t start procedures without some background information- so that we don’t accidentally administer anything our patients are allergic to…” Nurse Charger gives Tommy a pleading look, but Tommy just stares back. He sighs in defeat. “But… I can ask some of my superiors if we can make an exception for you.”
Tommy visibly relaxes, sinking into the sheets and releasing a tension that he had apparently been holding for this entire time, even when he had been dissociating. Of course, Nurse Charger also notices this, and says with more confidence, “I’m sure that they’d be willing to pull some strings too, as long as you’re comfortable answering any medical history questions on your own.”
Tommy sighs as Nurse Charger leaves the room, turning to Techno. He stares at him intensely, big blue eyes boring holes into Technos own eyes. Techno doesn’t shift uncomfortably, although he does run a finger along the edge of his book. Tommy’s eyes flick down to the book, before lighting up and looking back at Techno with the same intensity as before. “Can you read the book again?”
Techno blinks. He nods slowly, quirking an eyebrow at Tommy, before opening his book back up and starting from where he had left off.
Slowly, as the minutes tick by, Techno watches Tommy relax further into the white sheets of his hospital bed.
Silently, without halting his reading, Techno shifts his chair to be closer to Tommy’s bed when he drifts off to nap time completely. Not because he’s concerned for the kid at all- no, Techno would never care for a child, his reputation would be ruined- it’s because the kid would probably ask Techno to move closer anyway.
Ignoring the fact that every social situation that Techno runs through his mind excludes that possibility- Tommy would just… think the request really loudly- and, well, who is Techno to deny a telepathic kid’s wishes? He’s just five steps ahead of the game, nothing to it.
Someone shakes him awake. Expecting to be hit, berated, or dragged off by the back of his shirt, Tommy zones out of reality to make it easier on his conscious, disregarding the dull conversation outside of his bubble. The way he falls through the realm of sleep into the empty void of clouds is disorienting but familiar. His aches slowly awaken, but Tommy sinks further into his mind and they dissolve easily.
He floats for a while, letting thoughts drift through his mind before falling back without pausing.
Someone’s touching his palm.
Tommy disappears quickly, expecting the touch to descend into sharp pain. He doesn’t hold his breath. He simply waits; the breaking point is always soon.
Maybe today is a good day.
Someone is holding his other hand, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles.
This is a weird day, Tommy decides. A very weird day. The talking outside of his bubble is still calm, but he doesn’t know why because ——— always gets impatient after a certain point.
Maybe today is a weird good day.
He feels his chest decompress, air flooding out of his lungs in a painful huff. He thinks he can feel a slight wheeze in it too.
He feels himself inhale again, and the air is cold. Sanitized. So he’s in the upper levels? That’s bad. That’s always bad. That’s always always always always bad.
He inhales. The air tastes like concrete and ash.
The upper levels were destroyed already though. He’s- not there. No, not anymore.
“I guess I’ll call you big man! We’re gonna get you out of here, alright?”
The conversation is still calm, but Tommy can hear the calmness in the tone, a specific call in the words that sound like waiting.
He breathes. The air is cold and sanitized, but there’s a different scent to it. He breathes again, and focuses on the feeling of the thumb running over his knuckles. He breathes, blinking and clearing the fog from his eyes.
It takes a moment to gather his senses together, but eventually-
“-must’ve gone through some shit if it’s taking this long, huh?”
“He’s coming back, just give the dude a second.”
“Yeah Sapnap, chill. Oh- Hey Techno, did he tell you his name?” Tommy blinks, inhaling. Is ‘Techno’ the guy he’s thinking of?
“Nope.” It is! Good thing the book reading guy is still on his side. Tommy twitches his fingers, and Techno- who he presumes is the one tracing his palm, cuz he was the one doing it last time- notices, moving his hand to tap instead.
The tapping helps Tommy regain control over his hand, and he slowly relaxes that feeling through his arm, shoulder, before finally inhaling and sitting up.
With a clear view, he can finally identify the people in the room with him.
“Oh! You’re all here, that’s good!” Says a brown haired guy, with purple, pink, and green colored swirly glasses that obscure his eyes. He’s wearing a white doctors coat and in his hand is a clipboard. “My name is Doctor Karl, and I’ll be asking you some questions today!”
Someone next to Dr Karl huffs. “It’s so weird seeing you in ‘professional mode.’ You’re like a different person.” This one has black hair and a strange white strip of cloth wrapped around his forehead. Unlike Dr Karl, he isn’t dawning a white coat, and instead he wears jeans and a white T-shirt with a fire emblem in the center.
“Sapnap, shut it.” The third member elbows fire-emblem shirt guy. He’s got a cool scar on his left eye (Tommy’s right) and also has black hair, although it’s straighter and neater than Sapnap’s. He doesn’t look like a doctor either, with a blue beanie covering most of his hair and a Las Nevadas branded shirt with a yellow duck and an Ace embroidered onto the top left side.
Tommy glances at Techno, who has stuck his nose into the book he had been reading. He must notice Tommy’s look, because he meets his eyes half a second later.
Techno offers him a small smile, before looking back down into his book. Tommy notices that his chair is closer to Tommy’s bed that it had been before he fell asleep.
“Let’s get started, shall we?” Dr Karl steps closer, while Sapnap and the mysterious third member walk away to stand near the door, observing.
“Nurse Charger was supposed to take your vitals and all of that, but he said you didn’t look comfortable at the time with being touched. Also, he’s bad with kids.” He winks. “So I’ll be doing all the work for now, and then we can get started with the questions.”
He breathes. Staying… present, is hard. Dr Karl begins his examination, doing all the routine checks that a nurse would do (Tommy can only assume. He hasn’t been to a proper doctor in years).
With every touch, every brush of skin against cold metal, Tommy finds himself inadvertently flinching. Even as Dr Karl explains everything he’s going to do, the feeling of-metal against skin
-metal against skin forces him to aggressively throw himself out of the way. Then, he falls into the clouds, drifting for a second before he reminds himself over and over “I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay” so he can return to his body, only to be forced to go through that loop again,
Dr Karl prompts Tommy to take a deep breath. He inhales, and finds himself lost in his head for a moment. It smells like (the upper levels) the doctors office, with a hint of home and lemon.
He exhales. Dr Karl mutters something about how well Tommy is doing, and how he’s going to get him a sticker once they finish with the physical portion. Tommy grins, not quite reaching his eyes. He better get a fuckin’ sticker after everything he’s been through.
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His dissociation is actually both caused by trauma and an ability.
The way magic develops in this world is complicated. You don’t just… Get a power at birth. Nor does a power appear at a certain age.
A power starts developing at a random time, on a random day. It will go through a “growth” period, where it cannot be accessed but is present in an individual. It will stay in this growth period for months, and up to a year at most. Environmental factors have a very minor effect on what type of power someone develops, but in cases where the individual is constantly under stress, it can affect the power to an extent.
Tommy’s power went into its growth period while he was with ———. When Tommy stopped forcing himself out of dissociation, instead giving in and staying out of his mind, his power was forced to grow into that empty space.
After 2 months of being with ———, the growth period began. And then, after 5 months of being in the growth period, his power finished, and Tommy was able to access it. He never purposely tapped into it, but every time he dissociated he would subconsciously use it.
His power has 2 abilities.
The numbing part helped him dissociate on another level, because anything his brain registered as ‘harmful’ would be diluted, allowing him to peacefully sink into the clouds, regardless of the pain he was in.
During everything that I’ve currently written, Tommy has been continuously using his numbing ability. It isn’t overpowered, and it can’t take away all pain nor stop him from feeling pain in the moment (when he was slapped) but it does help for focusing on conversation, and when he was being held by Songbird.
He doesn’t know he can heal yet, because his power won’t let him use the numbing and the healing at the same time. If he used the numbing, his mind doesn’t know what is wrong with him, so he can’t heal it with his magic. In order to heal himself, he has to experience all of his normal pain.
I likely won’t be writing anymore, but Karl would eventually figure out the full extent of Tommy’s injuries and be completely in shock that Tommy isn’t having more of a reaction, which would lead to their discovery of his numbing ability.
How they discover his healing ability is on the table, and will remain on the table. Anyone is free to continue this if they feel like it.
