Chapter Text
Tommy is so fucking done.
He is currently running down the streets of L’manberg at 11 pm to escape some especially angry foster parents. Tommy’s such a big man, though, so he easily loses them in the backstreets where he grew up. Well, where he grew up before being taken into foster care.
Now you may ask, why was Tommy running from his foster parents at 11 pm? Well, he’ll have you know it wasn’t even his fault, the foster parents just couldn’t handle his sheer manliness.
Ok, maybe it was slightly his fault, but the fosters were really shitty people so he had no respect for them. They had all these rules and a fucking 4 pm curfew—I mean, who the hell is back home by 4 pm?
Not that he could even go out with all the chores he’d been asked to do. Sure, he expected to pull his own weight in the house but they were treating him like a maid, and big man Tommy wasn’t about to take that shit from no one. So, obviously, he decided to ignore them and to go for a walk instead.
He walked around and admired the surrounding complexes’ flowers then stole an ice cream bar from a 7/11 down the block. The cool dessert helped battle the heat of the day and without thinking Tommy found himself at the park watching some kids feed the ducks.
The kids squealed in delight when their bread was eaten and they dragged their parents to come and look. The parents looked at them fondly with a fierce protectiveness as their kids tugged them around incessantly rambling about anything and everything.
Tommy envied them. He envied the way the kids were allowed to be kids. The way the parents fiercely watched them to make sure they were safe and happy. He wished he could have people like that; people who would never spill his secrets and would protect him with their life as he would do the same (he ignored the traitorous part of his brain that reminded him he used to have people like that and that they were torn away from him, probably doing much better now).
He wished he could be a kid, without a care in the world, tugging along happy parents and feeding the ducks. He wished he could spend time rambling about his interests or nothing at all, and laughing with ease, not constantly watching his back.
He wished—no, Tommy was a big man, not a child. He doesn't want to spend time feeding the fucking ducks, he has money to make and women to get. He doesn’t wish for a stupid fucking family.
He looks away from the ducks and children. No use wishing for what he can’t have (reminiscing what he did have; what he missed so dearly yet knew he can’t have if he wants his loved ones to be happy).
Of course, there was always that small hope that he would find the right family. One that would accept him for who he is and not what he’s not, but he pushed that thought away. He’s almost aged out of the system and is a problematic flight risk, no one wants him.
Eventually, Tommy went back to his shitty foster house, past his curfew I might add. His foster parents decided to beat him when they realized what he’d done—the audacity—and even managed to land a few good punches.
However, Tommy, being the big man he is, said fuck that and got the hell out of there using his absolutely amazing skills. He simply jumped out the window with his pre-packed bag and flipped the family off as he started to run.
Now that leads us here: in a dingy alleyway where Tommy needs to call his social worker, Puffy. He sniffs as the adrenaline wears off from his run and takes out his shoddy phone.
“Puffy! My friend! How are you doing on this fine evening?” he says in a mock voice of confidence once she picks up.
“Tommy, what happened?” she replies with a voice full of concern. He winces at her tone but quickly regains his boisterous demeanor.
“What do you mean, Captain? What ever could I, a big man, ever want from you?” he gawks.
“Where are you?” Puffy sighs, she somehow always knows when somethings up with Tommy.
He tells her the address of the crumbling building he’s hiding by and quickly makes work checking himself for any plants—yes plants—growing off of him that may have sprouted accidentally. You see, Tommy is a powered folk and no one really knows, except a few close friends, and he intends to keep it that way.
Powered people are obviously much more dangerous than the common civilian considering they have, well, powers. One’s power can range from making oneself glow to shifting the confines of reality and these powers usually emerge before the age of 16.
Tommy himself has the power to control plants, particularly flowers which are his favorite. He can grow them right out of his hands and hair, making him look stunning if you were to ask him.
Sadly, he can’t walk around sprouting poppies out of his hair in a makeshift crown or else the government could take him away (again). Especially considering he can use his plants as a weapon, controlling them to attack people or even poison them.
Tommy’s powers emerged when he lived on the streets, at the ripe age of 5. He is 16 now and is pretty good at controlling his powers; using them to attack people, produce healing remedies, or just as decorations. He usually has his powers under control but they can come out accidentally when he feels strong emotions, which has never happened in front of people, thankfully (he ignores the reminder of too-white walls, the smell of sterilizer, and unkind hands he had to take comfort in).
He looks around for a second, locking eyes with a raccoon digging through a nearby dumpster. It’s beady eyes glisten in the dark and make Tommy realize just how shit the alleyway he’s in is.
There’s garbage strewn everywhere and bits of concrete and glass on the floor making it look like a tornado just hit. The more he looks the eerier the place gets, so he elects to just go back to checking himself as the little beast looks away as well, going back to dumpster diving.
He finishes checking himself just in time as he hears Puffy’s car pull up on the road (he wants to tell her, really, but he can’t trust her to not be associated with the government being a social worker and all). He happily hops in the beat up van he’s so familiar with and props his feet up on the dash. He stops when he sees Puffy’s expression, though.
“What? Can’t a big man fucking relax for once?” he jested, hoping to get rid of her horrified expression. “Ok, I’m sorry for putting my feet-” he started again but Puffy cut him off.
“Tommy, what happened to you?”
Tommy then took a minute to assess himself in the rear-view mirror, only now noticing the dull ache all over his body. The mirror showed a particularly bad bruise over his eye, almost entirely black. Comparing the pain of it to the rest his body made him almost certain his ribs were much worse off.
These weren’t the worst injuries he’d ever gotten from a home, but it was one of the more visibly terrible ones. The rest were usually easily covered up by his clothes or concealer. He usually got to cover them before Puffy saw, though.
Tommy took a deep breath, only wincing slightly. He hopes this means those foster parents didn’t break his ribs and he doesn’t have to go to the hospital. He hates hospitals and their stupid fucking white rooms (it reminds him too much of a place filled with needles, his heart pounding in his ears, struggling against his restraints trying to find purchase).
Actually, now that he has light to look at himself, he looks like shit. His ankle is throbbing and it turns out, in hindsight, jumping out a window isn’t that great of an idea, but it did make him look fucking cool so that’s that.
“Where to now, Captain?” he asked, “Back to the shitty group home?”
“Not exactly…”
“What? Where the fuck am I going then?”
“You’re going to an emergency placement house. The guy is a friend of mine and he’s specialized in dealing with children deemed to be flight risks or problematic.” Tommy scowls at her words, he knows those labels all too well since he himself is a ‘problematic’ ‘flight risk’. His last home being a prime example of this.
Puffy had the nerve to look sheepish, sending Tommy to a new foster home with no warning! He glared at her hoping to convey his feeling of utter hatred to her and she seemed to get the memo.
“Don’t worry, he’s a friend of mine and he’s really nice. He even adopted a pair of problematic twins he fostered a couple years back!” Puffy assured.
Tommy sighed, but knew it really wasn’t Puffy’s fault, she was just doing her job. He was, however, planning to piss these people off, showing the higher-ups that this big man couldn’t be tamed by anyone, experience or not. He smiled at the thought as he began drifting off with his head laid on the cool car window.
“You have all your things? Or do we have to go back?” Puffy’s words snapped Tommy out of his stupor. He nodded sleepily and she smiled in return letting him get a light nap on their way to his new home.
He awoke to Puffy gently shaking his shoulders and belatedly realized that they had arrived at the home. A grimace graced his lips as he got out of the car and stretched, his back cracking.
Taking a survey of his surroundings he noticed the wooden house in front of him had two stories, a small garden, and overall looked very homely. Tommy wondered what kind of people lived here, he hoped it would be the lesser of two evils.
Puffy rested a grounding hand on his back and led him up to the front door. She knocked gently and they heard a muffled ‘coming!’ from the inside of the house followed by a pair of footsteps heading their way.
His heart starts to pound in his ears and his grip on his red backpack tightens. Puffy squeezes his shoulder reassuringly as the door creaks open, and standing there is a tall-ass motherfucker.
“Why is there a fucking child at our door?!”
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