The Childrens Rebellion

Arachnophobia

❯ We got the folders. ❮

"Good," Drista said, as Tommy was half-asleep, his head on the tablecloths. "I think Tommy's about to pass out too."

❯ What?! Is he okay? ❮

"'M fine," he grumbled into his microphone. "Jus' tired."

"Yeah, he and Ranboo tired themselves out dancing," Drista said, both of them glancing at Ranboo, who was already asleep. Fortunately, that fact and Drista's heavy glares were enough to keep people away from them.

❯ That's what you get for using your abilities. ❮

"They're mine to use," he said grumpily.

"Don't fall asleep while piloting," Drista said, pushing a mug of something towards Tommy's hands. He yawned and sniffed at it suspiciously. "It's not poison. Knifing someone is so much cooler than poison."

"I didn't think it was," he said, taking a sip and nearly dying at its bitterness. "WHAT the fuck is that?"

"Pure caffeine," Drista said. "It'll wake you up in about ten minutes."

Tommy glared at her and reached over to a small basket, tearing open a biodegradable packet of sugar and pouring it into the profound brown awfulness. After a second, he added a second. A third. A fourth.

"Oh, stop being dramatic," Drista said. She tilted her head. "It's too bad they have a planetwide jammer here. Otherwise, I'd message Wilbur to complain about you."

"Doesn't Tubbo have a jammer?" Tommy asked.

"Yeah, but it's off at the minute," Drista said, waving a hand. "It'd be awfully awkward if there were a small bubble of nothing wherever he walked, wouldn't it?"

"I suppose," he said, blinking slightly as he downed the rest of the pure caffeine with a grimace. He should add milk next time. Or something to dilute it. Maybe poison. Poison probably tasted better than pure caffeine.

❯ Come on, guys, let's get out of here. ❮

"Gotcha, mission leader," Tommy said.

❯ Don't call me that. ❮

"I would never, mission leader."

Drista sighed and poked Ranboo's side as she looked at Tommy. "Don't antagonize him."

Tommy frowned. "He deserves it."

"He's gonna fill your bed with snakes or some shit," Drista warned him as she poked Ranboo's head again. "Hey. Sleepyhead. Dancer boy. Beloved. Get up."

"Don' call me that," Ranboo slurred as he blinked his heterochromatic eyes sleepily. "Wha's goin' on?"

"We're leaving," Drista said. "It's nearly eleven Standard time. The crew's going to rain down hell if we don't get back before twelve."

"Oh," Ranboo said. "How long was I asleep?"

"About half an hour," Drista said with a shrug. "Tommy was mostly snoozing too. I warded off your well-wishers. Nice job, by the way."

"Nice singing," Tommy said, standing up. "I have to go to the bathroom. I'll meet you outside."

Drista barely spared him a second glance as she held out a hand, and Ranboo took it, hauling the much taller boy up. "Okay."

Tommy navigated his way through the dispersing crowd, ducking his head when people called his name. He didn't want to have to deal with that at the minute. He opened the doors with a slight push, staring at the designs of mushrooms inscribed in them before passing through into the hallway. The music cut off almost instantly, and Tommy breathed in the silence that followed, the clear electrical lights of the hallway a nice break from the flickering candlelight.