Chapter Text
We’re one of a kind, no category
Too many years lost in history
We’re free to take our-
“Oh my god, what happened to the sound quality?” Tubbo pauses the audio, frowning at the program he’s using to mix the song. What the hell did he do to offend the damned thing?
Ranboo laughs. He laughs. “Maybe you should, uh, turn down the volume on Tommy’s audio there, buddy.”
“Shut up.”
He turns down the volume on Tommy’s audio. He also fiddles with a few more settings before hitting play again. This time, the song sounds like what it’s meant to sound like.
“Oh, Tommy sent a message in general,” Ranboo says. Tubbo has Discord open but he hasn’t actually checked it since Ranboo joined the vc two hours ago. “He says he’s going to be late and we can start without him. Recording his vlog went overtime.”
“Eh, it’s fine,” Tubbo shrugs, still focused on the song. “We can wait for him.”
Tubbo has been mixing this cover of “Six” from Six: The Musical for several hours now - and that’s only counting today - and he’s so close to having it finished. It’s not the first cover that they’ve released since their big identity reveal but it is the first one that wasn’t prerecorded before the reveal. It’s also the first video that will contain their faces (with no masks to hide behind, save for Ranboo).
They still aren’t sure if this is going to be a regular thing - showing their faces for their songs - or not. Ranboo, the person Tubbo would expect most to object to videos of this nature, doesn’t seem to care. It’s Tommy that’s vehemently against it. He thinks they should do things the way they always have - simple lyric videos with a random photo. He doesn’t think things should have to change now that they’ve revealed their identities. Tubbo is probably going to have the deciding vote, which sucks because he doesn’t know what he wants, and it’s not like Jack cares.
Ah, yes. This is also going to be the first cover with their newest band member. Tubbo’s actually pretty excited about it. As it turns out, Jack Manifold can play guitar, and Tubbo already knew he could sing. A few weeks ago, Ranboo had expressed that being bassist and guitarist was maybe a bit too much for him, especially with streaming and his Generation Loss series he wanted to create. Wilbur had responded, “Well you can’t steal Joe!” and Jack had joked, “I could be your guitarist.”
Everyone had laughed until Ranboo said, “Wait, Jack, can you actually?” and well… now Jack Manifold is Player Four.
Tubbo continues working on the song while Jack coordinates with his editor, and Ranboo- actually, Tubbo doesn’t know what Ranboo is doing right now. Probably planning for his move to the UK. He’s finally moving here permanently now that he’s graduated high school. Ranboo and Tommy are splitting rent for a flat in Brighton. Tommy’s already there, actually. Tubbo’s going to continue living at home, at least for now. He’ll figure that out some other time, when he isn’t busy with Tubnet, streaming, and The Multiplayers.
“Hah!” Tubbo eventually shouts, getting out of his chair to jump a little.
“You finished it?” Ranboo asks.
“Yes! Finally!”
“Let’s hear it, then,” Jack says. Discord pings, announcing Tommy’s arrival.
“Boys!” He shouts, sounding a bit drained. He did just spend the day filming a vlog, after all. “Wilbur’s with me.”
“Tubbo finished Six!” Ranboo tells them. Tommy whoops.
“Can we hear it?” Wilbur asks.
“Wait, we should call Aimsey,” Ranboo points out. Last time they’d done a song from Six: The Musical (“Ex-Wives”), Ranboo, Tubbo, and Tommy had to double up as characters. This time, they’d gotten Wilbur and Aimsey, and of Jack, of course, fill in as vocals for Catherine Parr, Catherine of Aragon, and Katherine Howard, respectively. Tubbo sang as Anne Boleyn, Ranboo as Jane Seymour, and Tommy as Anna of Cleves.
Tubbo messages Aimsey, who joins the call almost right away. “Play it!” they eagerly say. Tubbo does. When the song is done there’s a round of applause. Tubbo jokingly bows at his camera, even though it’s off.
“I’ll send it out to you all so you can film your parts of the video,” he says. With Ranboo in the UK and Jack up North, they’ll all have to film their parts separately.
“Remember to film it in front of a blank white wall,” Ranboo says. “And wear the right colours!”
“Obviously,” Tommy says. “It’ll be an editing nightmare, otherwise.”
Once Aimsey has left the call and Wilbur has gone home, The Multiplayers turn to the real purpose of this call.
“So,” Ranboo says. “The album.”
“The album,” Tommy repeats. The call falls silent.
“Is… is this usually how you write your songs?” Jack finally asks. Tubbo groans. No, usually it’s easier. But this is for their album. It’s a big deal! He doesn’t want to mess this up or disappoint anyone with mediocre, or worse, bad music.
“We’re usually better at this,” Ranboo mumbles.
“Right. Does anyone have any ideas?” Jack questions. Silence. Then-
“Well,” Tommy says. “Maybe.”
He sends a message in the Discord chat:
[Verse ??]
I bare my face to the wind
But it sings not back
As I try to hold onto my friend
But our grips slip
And the ground cracks
And fingers fall away from my own
Tubbo feels a bit off-kilter reading the lyrics. They’re really sad, almost desperate, and Tubbo wonders briefly if Tommy feels like he’s actually losing grip on his friends. But no, there’s no way. They’re all way too close for that to ever happen. Right?
“It’s meant to be a slower song,” Tommy says. Tubbo figured, considering how sombre it seems. “I don’t have any ideas for the music, just those lyrics.”
“I-” Ranboo starts. He clears his throat. “Those are really good,” he says sincerely.
“I agree,” Jack says. “I think I’ve got an idea for the melody already.”
“Great!” Tubbo shakes himself a bit and pulls himself closer to his keyboard. “Let’s write a song.”
“Let’s!” Tommy agrees happily. A few strums sound over the call from Jack as he tunes his guitar - acoustic for this song - and there’s a crash from Tommy’s end as he accidentally hits his crash cymbal. Ranboo laughs at him. “Ow, fuck. I hit that with my knuckle. Fuck’s sake.”
“Tommy,” Tubbo says.
“Yeah?”
“How?”
“Fuck off,” he says. Ranboo laughs at him again.
“Alright,” Jack says. “Can I play the melody I had in mind?”
They all agree, but before Jack can start, Tommy interrupts. “Uh, before we start, you should know that we’ll probably have to credit Techno? As a writer?” When nobody says anything, he elaborates, “He helped a bit with the verse. We brainstormed together.”
Tubbo giggles. Of course, he thinks. “Okay, we’ll credit him.”
“He mostly just corrected my grammar,” Tubbo knows that Tommy is shrugging despite being unable to see him, “but…”
“Yeah,” Ranboo says. “No worries.”
“The question is,” Jack begins teasingly, “Is he still giving you shit about metaphors?”
“Oh god,” Tommy grumbles. “I never want to hear the word metaphor again.”
Tubbo thinks back to a month ago. The day after they’d live-streamed their identities to the world, Techno had shown up completely unannounced. In retrospect, it’d been pretty funny.
A Few Months Ago
Tubbo wakes up the day after their identity reveal with a grin on his face. It may be because he just had a funny dream, though it’s fading fast and all he can remember now is that a squirrel was involved. It may be because the reveal went so well Yesterday. Either way, Tubbo is still smiling by the time he’s gotten ready and gone downstairs for breakfast.
He’s up early, which isn’t necessarily unusual for him - it depends on what his sleep schedule looks like - but he also got a good nine hours of sleep last night. Still, he’s one of three people already awake, the other two being Phil and Karl. The other two are in the kitchen, Phil making eggs, Karl sitting at the breakfast bar and chattering away about something or other.
“Tubbo!” Karl notices him and waves.
“Good morning,” Tubbo says, sitting down in the barstool beside Karl. Phil pushes a glass of orange juice toward him and asks if he wants an egg. Tubbo gratefully sips at the juice and accepts an egg.
“Sleep well?” Phil asks, giving another egg to Karl.
Tubbo nods, humming around his mouthful of eggs. Phil laughs and turns back to make more. It doesn’t take long for the rest of the rental house’s occupants to wake up. Wilbur has taken over making eggs and everyone is spread out around the kitchen and living room eating breakfast and chatting. At some point, Tommy ends up taking out his camera, and once everyone has consented, he turns it on to vlog a bit. There’s no knowing whether the footage will actually get used in a vlog yet, but it doesn’t hurt to film a bit anyway.
And then there’s knocking on the door. The house falls quiet. “Did someone order something?” Dream asks. There are several responses of “No!” and “Nope!” and George says “What would we order right now?”
“I’ll get it!” Tommy shouts, already on his feet. Nobody sees any reason not to let him answer the door since they can all see it from here anyway, so nobody else bothers to move. Tommy swings the door open, “Hello” already coming out of his mouth, and-
“Motherfucker.”
“Technoblade?”
Phil bursts out laughing.
What the fuck? Tubbo thinks. Then, oh shit, because he, Tommy, and Ranboo, but especially Tommy, have definitely messed with Techno quite a bit by pretending not to understand the metaphors and meanings behind their own songs.
It takes a while for everyone to calm down from the surprise of Technoblade just showing up. Eventually, Techno actually makes it off the front step and into the house with his suitcase. Phil explains that he got a random call Yesterday from Techno, who had only realised during his layover in Newark that he hadn’t actually told anyone he was coming.
Somehow, through all this, Tubbo has ended up on the couch, squished between Tommy and Ranboo. Techno is standing over them, his arms crossed.
“You little shits,” Techno says.
“Uh,” Tommy says. “Sorry?”
“Sorry? Are you kidding me? ‘Very metaphorical’,” he quotes Tommy from the first time they ever talked about The Multiplayers on stream together. “And you!” he points at Tubbo, who grimaces, dread bubbling in his gut. “You really said ‘What’s a metaphor?’ to my face?” Ranboo snickers, but it only draws Techno’s attention. “Don’t even start,” he says. “You told me the only instrument you can play is the tambourine.”
“I mean-” Ranboo starts, then thinks better of it and quickly says, “nevermind.”
Techno then rounds on Wilbur, who’s standing to the side trying to contain his laughter. The moment he realises that Techno is pointing at him, his eyes go wide and he raises his hands up in surrender.
“Hold on-” Wilbur says, but he’s ignored.
“And you,” Techno jabs a finger at him. “You knew.”
“So did Phil!” Is Wilbur’s only defence.
“Mate!” Phil gives Wilbur a betrayed look.
“Phil?!”
Tubbo hopes Techno isn’t actually mad at them. It was only ever meant to be a joke, but he can see how Techno might be upset considering they did sort of make him the butt of several jokes by keeping him ignorant of their identities. Tubbo’s starting to get genuinely worried. To his left, Ranboo is in the same boat, but Tommy’s grinning, defiant.
Techno sighs. “I can’t believe you all,” he shakes his head. Tubbo’s about to speak up, because he still isn’t entirely sure if Techno is actually hurt, but before he can, Techno starts laughing.
“You guys owe me for all this,” he says. “I get to be the first person to hear your album. Before you release it.”
“Album?” Ranboo mutters, quiet enough that only Tubbo could have heard.
“Our what?” Tommy’s eyes are wide.
“What, are you just gonna drop one EP and stop making music?” Techno crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow.
“Oh shit,” Tubbo says as realisation sets in. “We should make an album.”
Now
After Techno’s visit, and once they’d all gone home, Ranboo had reached out to their label. They’d immediately been on board with making an album, especially considering the success of their first EP. Several songs were charting, and TikTok had gotten ahold of “Flowers” and started a trend.
They manage to write another verse and chorus for the song, which has been titled “Sing Back to Me.” They’ve expanded on Jack’s idea for the melody and as they wrap up the call, Tommy tells them that he’s got a few ideas for another verse or two and maybe a pre-chorus that he’s going to work on tonight.
Once the call ends, Tubbo slumps in his seat, exhausted but feeling better about writing this album. He’s already starting to have an idea or two for another song, in fact. He taps away at his keyboard for a few minutes, working his idea out in his mind. He records it on his phone so he won’t forget it. Satisfied, he gets up, stretches, and makes to get ready for bed. He’s barely a step away from his newly shut-down setup when his phone rings. It’s Ranboo.
“Hey-”
“Check the email,” Ranboo interrupts.
“Huh?”
“The email. Check it,” and then he hangs up. Tubbo sighs. His computer is off so he uses his phone to open The Multiplayers’ email, since he’s sure Ranboo isn’t talking about his personal or business email. There’s an email from their label, which he doesn’t actually manage to open because now Tommy is calling him.
“Hel-”
“Tubbo!”
“Yes?”
“Have you read it?”
“What, the email? I was just about-”
“Read it!” he shouts excitedly, and then Tommy hangs up too. Tubbo rolls his eyes and finally opens the email. His eyes scan over the words, taking it all in. His mouth drops open. Oh, he thinks.
With shaking hands, he calls both Ranboo, Jack, and Tommy.