Chapter Text
Tommy’s palms itch as he makes his way back to his family. He scowls sharply at the different green cloth in his vision. He readily ignores XD’s light offer to teleport him back and instead just begins running. His feet hit heavy across the path but he just needs to get rid of all the energy in his shoulders and arms and legs and everything. There’s an unpleasant thrill buzzing under his skin that travels in waves from where Dream had just touched him. The sensation moves, shifting and crawling before seeming to pulsate from places in his jaw and head, places that Dream gripped and bruised in another timeline.
He expects well-acquainted panic to settle in but instead of jittery anxiety, his blood fills with burning suspense. Nothing afraid, just ready. Coiled springs and all that. The cold air stings when Tommy forces air in through his nose and so Tommy haphazardly raises a hand to roughly push the back of his hand over it in an instinctual attempt to wipe the feeling away.
His knees ache something satisfying as Tommy pushes himself into a sprint. He only slows down when he can clearly see Wilbur and Tubbo—and maybe he looks for Phil and Techno the same way he does for Wil and Tubbo too. He slows himself down into a passably reasonable pace and cursorily wipes over his eyes to rub out anything visibly distressed that he might’ve forgotten.
His gaze swallows up everyone’s positions and faces. Wilbur and Tubbo are sat near each other, a big book between the two. Phil is crouched a somewhat behind them, still tall enough to point at things on the pages from over their shoulders. Phil is fully non-threatening. Tommy does his best to internalise that. Techno is isolated a few paces away from them, sat on a dragged over stump and a journal balanced open over a thigh.
Tommy tears his gaze away and takes another deep breath before taking six, seven steps towards and into his and Tubbo’s tent, not bothering to zip it back up behind him. He needs to plan better. He needs to be better. He needs someone to understand him. Tommy checks his inventory for his journal and is partially relieved by the fact that it’s still there. He looks around the small tent and dives forward slightly to pick up a lopsidedly-capped ink bottle and quill pen that had been discarded near one of the ten edges. He’s got a new plan formulating in his mind.
Outside light enters the tent again as Tubbo predictably appears behind him. Tommy shuffles aside to let Tubbo in.
Technoblade doesn’t expect Tommy to tell them what happened during the meeting with the server owner, and Tommy doesn’t tell them anything about it. Tommy also doesn’t speak about anything else. The kid just arrives back, at the very least visibly unharmed, and casts a short glance over them before huffing and quietly retreating into his tent. Phil makes a move to get up but Tubbo is already speedwalking there first and Wilbur grabs onto Phil’s wrist with a pinching grip, keeping their father in place.
WHY DOES TUBBO GET TO INTERACT WITH TOMMY SO MUCH? It’s not fair! We’re his brother! TECHNO’S HIS BROTHER. WE’RE JUST HERE TO MAKE THINGS SPICY I like to think of Tommy as ours HE REALLY SHOULD BELONG TO US! I wish we just took Tommy and Wilbur with us during the early days… WE SHOULD HUNT DOWN SCHLATT FOR TOMMY! HE DESERVES THE TREAT Wait who’s Shlatt? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME—
Techno blinks away the sudden surge of possessiveness that Chat pumps through his mind and continues to calculate and write down the materials needed for their house. He considers removing plans for Tubbo and Tommy to have separate rooms but recent events have sorta just shut that idea out of possibility. Techno doesn’t personally think Tommy would intentionally do anything bad to Tubbo considering how he acts toward the boy but Phil would likely pitch a fit over it.
Phil said he wasn’t going to linger, but Techno can tell that it isn’t likely just from how Phil twiddles his thumbs when looking at Tommy. That, and Phil was definitely scouting for nearby areas to settle himself while they were on that walk.
PHIL IS JUST TRYING HIS BEST Do you think he can actually ‘fix’ Tommy? IF HE FIGURES OUT HOW TO RID TOMMY OF CHAT, WE’RE KILLING HIM We should add a basement to the house so Phil can live under there with us, in secret DO YOU THINK PHIL ACTUALLY CARES ABOUT TOMMY? Remember when Phil used to whistle Tommy lullabies when Tommy was little? I FUCKING HATED HIS WHISTLING It was cringe IT WAS ADORABLE!
Techno huffs before frowning and thinking about how similar Tommy’s become to him. Tommy got the whole hunched shoulders and petulant glaring from Wilbur but the way Tommy’s been sweeping his eyes around and the way Tommy’s been hoarding items are eerily reminiscent of Techno’s own little quirks. And by quirks, he means “Paranoid Habits.”
Techo has spent a long time living with Chat and bloodlust. He can’t exactly remember whether or not the habits Tommy has picked up are symptoms of Chat or symptoms of something else. It’s weird. Techno can’t fully describe it but it just feels odd to see so many of his own personal experiences being reenacted by Tommy. He wonders what would happen if Tommy actually got to kill someone. It could be cathartic. It could absolutely not be cathartic.
Maybe he’s been letting Chat get away with talking about Tommy a bit too much.
WE CAN TALK ABOUT TOMMY WHENEVER AND HOWEVER THE FUCK WE WANT If we can’t talk about Tommy killing, we can talk about killing Tommy, if you’d like? HIS NECK IS SO SNAPPABLE!
Techno scowls, annoyed that Chat had managed to hear that thought, and the inking quill in his hand digs into the journal paper harshly. Black wells up in the dent—ink spidering out into the fibres of the paper—and the tip breaks. Ignoring the concerned, somewhat wary, way Wil and Phil glance at him, Techno mumbles under his breath.
“If you bring this up again, I’m snapping all the weapons I brought with me in half.” Techno mutters.
Haha bring up what? KILLING TO— I was trying to play it cool, shut up! NO! I spent so much time trying to get Techno to name one of those after me— HOW COULD YOU BE SO CRUEL TO US, TECHNO?! What did we do wrong? We’re behaving! YOU BETTER NOT BREAK OUR TOYSYou guys are actually so mean, we deserve it honestly WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO WITHOUT THE SWORDS? What about the knives we smuggled? What about the shortbow? YOU ALREADY CUT YOUR CLAWS, YOU CAN’T JUST CRIPPLE YOURSELF FURTHER!
Techno rolls his eyes at the dramatics of chat. At least they sound less Intrusive when there’s so many voices complaining at once. The different voices fade into white noise. Techno prefers this over every voice in his head asking for one thing, the cacophony also has the added benefit of giving him some time to paradoxically relax.
He needs the relaxation, especially after almost driving a sword down Tommy’s throat. Techno sees the visual of it reflected to himon the page of his work journal for just a moment before he tiredly rubs his eyes and quickly thinks of the various potato statistics he left behind. A few of the voices catch on his train of thought but are swiftly interrupted by other voices still stuck on his threat.
He exhales slowly, breath coming out warm and heavy. Chat continues their screaming and screeching but Techno feels a bit more secure in keeping his thoughts to himself.
LET US BACK IN PLEASE We need narration or else we’ll get bored! HEY THIS SEEMS LIKE A GOOD TIME TO SCREAM BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD If we demand that all the time then it loses significance BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD Blood for the blood god!
It really would have been so simple to just off Tommy right then and there. Tommy likely would have started doing some actual damage if it weren’t for the Admin’s interference. Techno has dealt with Admin interference before though to be honest, a strange amount of Admins actually took a liking to him.
He wasn’t really familiar with stepping aside for someone he doesn’t respect, let alone know. He knows logically that XD and Dream are supposed to do what’s best for everyone on the server. Techno knows that Tommy was willing to hurt whoever was in front of him at that time. It still took a bit of effort to release Tommy and back away in that moment.
ARE WE ABLE TO KILL ADMINS? I bet we could be one of the first HOW MANY WEAPONS DO WE HAVE RIGHT NOW Maybe we could get Tommy to cast something on them! TOMMY WAS GOING TO USE MAGIC ON US Tommy was going to use magic on Schlatt, not us ARE WE SURE ABOUT THAT?
Tommy is a lanky kid, all small and built like a fern. He's fast, though. Techno is just a small bit impressed by the number of hits Tommy landed on Schlatt. Tommy has the potential to be a well-rounded fighter.
Techno doesn't think Tommy's been doing that "bad" at all, honestly. Tommy's just been acting like a moody teen. A particularly stabby, moody teen. Wilbur has attempted to stab people too, hasn't he? Though those moments were never as intense as Techno's or Tommy's, they were still there. Then again, Phil did gift them knives accompanied with a short speech on when to use them—which started the whole 'Wilbur Almost Stabbing a Merchant Moment' because of the included "on strangers who suddenly or roughly grab you" part.
Still, Techno doesn't think Tommy's at the point of needing "fixing". He feels a weird sort-of burning anger in his chest at the thought of “Fixing” someone that Techno doesn’t want to deal with. Phil had done his darndest at helping him. The least Techno can do is appreciate the fact that Phil was willing to deal with a tiny, murderous hybrid crying about voices in head. It’s embarrassing to think he was ever that scared, little kid or piglet or runt or whatever. It’s different when it’s Tommy, of course. Tommy was supposed to be normal and he was normal. Techno was doomed as soon as he was born visually hybrid with all the instincts off the bat.
Remember when you stole Phil’s gold necklace? AND HE CRIED BECAUSE IT WAS MOM’S And you kept it for a week before the guilt finally settled in and you dropped it back among Phil’s other things AND THEN YOU IMMEDIATELY SPOTTED A PAIR OF GOLD EARRINGS AND STOLE THOSE TOO
Techno falls into the rhythm of finishing up chores as Chat breaks into a flurry of recounting memories just to embarrass him. He wonders vaguely if Tommy has instinct because of something hybrid-related, the borderline unhealthy possessiveness of Tubbo and Wilbur certainly seems to indicate so. Techno can see how that behaviour was alarming to Phil but to Techno, it was sweet. Not that he’d ever say so out loud, but Techno has always respected a dedication to keep things safe no matter the intensity.
—But at least Phil never found out I’M PRETTY SURE PHIL KNEW. Yeah, Phil started giving Techno an allowance of a gold coin a week after that! WILBUR WAS FURIOUS HAHA And then Phil gave Wil an allowance too, but it was silver instead of gold which ended up being worse than when Wil wasn’t given one at all. TECHNO SCREAMED AT WIL WHEN WIL STOLE ONE OF HIS COINS TO BUY A BOOK They were, like, twelve at the time THREE OR SO YEARS BEFORE TECHNO COULD’VE ACTUALLY HURT WIL OVER IT
By the time Techno is finished with packing away, recounting, and reorganising food supply, Wil has reluctantly retired to his tent to sleep. Phil stays stubbornly awake, sat near the fire and transitioning between tending to it and loudly scribbling down who-knows-what in one of his enchanted journals. Techno sighs and cracks his neck.
“I’ll probably be out hunting tonight. You can take my tent for the night if you’re too tired to set yours up,” Techno offers. Phil startles, unmistakably tired, and then nods in defeat under Techno’s steady gaze.
WE GET TO GO HUNTING?! It must be my birthday WHAT ARE WE HUNTING? Happy birthday! TECHNO WE LOVE YOU BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! When do we get to go? ARE WE GOING NOW? Can we go now? CAN WE TAKE TOMMY WITH US? Can we take Tubbo too? WHAT ARE THE RULES ABOUT TUBBO? Can we say we want to hunt Tubbo or will that get us in trouble
“Thanks. I’ll, uh, go off to set up somewhere else tomorrow then,” Phil says awkwardly. Phil clears his throat and Techno just raises a brow before Phil robotically retreats into Techno’s tent.
Techno starts silently preparing items and waits until Phil’s loud snores come out muffled through the tent walls before finally getting up and looking around for a good direction to go. It’d be nice to get some furs for supplies and warmth but Techno hasn’t seen many deers or rabbits around yet. Anything is good he supposes, as long as it quells Chat.
“Did things go well with Dream—?”
“Yeah! It was fine.” Tommy quickly says.
He gestures for Tubbo to sit down next to him before leaning forward conspiratorially.
“Wanna go out later tonight? Just us,” Tommy asks in a quiet, pressing, voice.
“For what? I don’t think Wilbur or Phil would be okay with us going out so late,” Tubbo whispers back, not fully willing to really argue. Tommy grins wide.
“It’s important, I promise,” Tommy tells him.
Techno moves over to duck behind his tent and pick up a couple of unlit torches when he intuitively stills, body tensing up and ears suddenly straining as unnatural sound is picked up by his subconscious.
Just a second later, the sound of Tommy's tent loudly zipping open makes Techno's ear twitch. Around the corner of the tent blocking Techno from view, he sees Tommy stumble out and attempt to make a quiet exit. Tommy makes a leading motion with one of his hands, and soon Tubbo is following him out as well.
SCANDALOUS? Shut the fuck up, they’re kids SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN ANYTHING BY IT But what the fuck are they doing? MAYBE THEY’RE GOING TO A PARTY! What universe do you think we’re in? ONE WITH REBELLIOUS TEENS Okay you're right but—
Techno can't see Tubbo's face from this angle, but the kid does seem to nervously glance from left to right before carefully following Tommy's lead. Techno keeps in a sigh and waits until Tommy and Tubbo have zipped the tent back up and have started heading towards the forest across the path in front of their tent clearing.
It's easy to follow them after that. Tommy can apparently hear rustling bunnies under vegetation but Techno has played this hunting-follow game a lot longer and under a lot more pressure.
WAIT ARE WE HUNTING THEM Please be clear, Techno, we need to know what we can say WE HAVE A WEAPON AND WE ARE FOLLOWING THEM—HUNTING? We’re just being nosey, I think. TECHNO HUNTING POV Look at them skittering away into the forest, so cute! LIKE COCKROACHES AND RACOONS Like little bugs and foxes!
Tommy and Tubbo seem to continue speaking in hushed tones, though both do keep an eye out for any hostile mobs that may show around as the sky darkens. Techno appreciates the fact that they're trying to be vigilant at least.
Tommy stutters to a stop near a decaying stump and Techno almost thinks Tommy has somehow realised his presence but instead of any confrontation, Tommy turns his focus on the stump and settles onto his knees in front of it. Techno watches with vague amusement as Tommy reaches into the wooden carcass, shoulder dipped in ridiculously deep, and pulls out a bow and a fistful of slightly-weathered-looking arrows. Huh, so that’s what happened to that skeleton’s set from a few days ago.
Tommy slings the bow over his shoulder haphazardly, slides the arrows away into his inventory, and gives another glance-around before getting up and motioning for Tubbo to continue following him. Techno follows after, curious to see what Tommy intends to do. He wonders if maybe Tommy’s been doing this more often than they had all realised but Techno is sure he would have been able to know earlier because of how often he usually stays up. Tubbo looks more confused and fearful than frequent outings would indicate—maybe only Tommy goes out? But that shouldn’t be possible with how active during the day Tommy usually is.
BUT DO WE REALLY KNOW IF TOMMY NEEDS SLEEP? Everyone needs sleep THAT CAN’T BE TRUE, WHAT ABOUT THE UNDEAD? Tommy isn’t an undead. NOT YET AT LEAST Tommy isn’t allowed to die, remember? SORRY, I REMEMBER, SORRY TECHNO Tommy never dies! Hmm, no, it doesn’t go as hard. WE COULD TRY OUT OTHER WAYS OF SAYING IT? ‘TOMMYINNIT ALWAYS LIVES’—please shut up.
Techno finds himself instinctually fading into more shadowed areas instead of simply following from behind trees. Tommy’s body begins to jitter with restrained anticipation and rising awareness that has Techno itching to just pop out and demand to know what he’s doing.
Techno furrows his brows as he focuses back on Tommy and Tubbo in the clearing. Tommy's got the bow slung over his chest while both his hands grip Tubbo's forearms tightly.
"Tubbo, I—” Tommy cuts himself off, swallowing, before casting a suspicious glance over the area around the two. Techno shifts silently, confidently hidden in the shadow of a tree's trunk and thick foliage. Tommy takes a visibly deep breath and continues, "I need to tell you something. But it has to stay a secret, okay? I can't let you—you can't let anyone know about this, okay?"
Techno watches rapt as Tubbo nods wide-eyed, a tinge of fearful panic lining Tubbo's uncomfortable form. Tommy licks his lips and swallows again. He looks almost feverish as he leans into Tubbo's space—oblivious or uncaring to the way Tubbo cringes—and murmurs into Tubbo's ear.
Techno can't pick up any of it.
GASP, A CONFESSION OF SOMETHING A badly done one, to be honest, Tubbo looks unnerved DID YOU JUST SAY THE WORD ‘GASP’ OUT LOUD LIKE AN ONOMATOPOEIA? What the fuck does that word mean? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU CALL ME? I’ll onomatopoeia on your body WAIT, GUYS PLEASE FOCUS
A moment passes where Tommy just stays there, inches away from Tubbo's ear. Tommy's chest rises and lowers in a fast rhythm, and Techno can see his brother's fingers flexing and unflexing nervously around Tubbo's arms.
Tubbo purses his lip, eyes still stunned and wide.
"Tommy, you're…" Tubbo's voice trails off. Tommy blinks and his head cocks back, out of Tubbo's personal space.
Tommy's hands stay wrapped around Tubbo's arms. There's this expectant expression on Tommy's face, it kind of looks like how Phil does whenever he thinks he's found a solution to something. Tubbo opens his mouth, closes it, and opens his mouth again.
"You're scaring me," Tubbo whispers.
Tommy stills, the words that had left his mouth in a confession suddenly feeling ridiculous. But they shouldn’t have, right? Why doesn’t it make sense to Tubbo? “I’m from the future,” he had whispered. Didn’t that explain everything? Why does Tubbo look so disbelieving? It’s not that impossible to believe. Maybe he didn’t phrase it right, maybe he didn’t express how important it is. He scowls, shaking his head, and tries again.
“You’re not listening right, Tubs’, I’m—”
“I heard what you said, but it’s not,” Tubbo twists his arms out of Tommy’s grip and wraps his arms around himself, he displeasedly continues, “It’s not funny. You can’t just say things like that, Tommy—It’s just stupid.”
Tommy’s face screws up confusedly as Tubbo looks him over. The weight that had fallen off his shoulders crawls up his back and settles back down under where Tubbo’s got him held. Tommy frowns and gently swipes away Tubbo’s hands. Tommy takes a step back, a part of him feeling angry but a bigger part feeling indignant.
“I can prove it,” Tommy whispers, gaze suddenly focussing past Tubbo and on staggered movement.
“What? Tommy—”
Tommy pulls the bow out from over his head, takes out an arrow, and notches it. Tubbo looks terrified for just a moment but he’s ignored as Tommy releases the fletching and lets it go. The arrow flies past Tubbo's head andover his shoulder. It sinks into the decaying eye socket of a zombie limping towards them from a few metres away. Tubbo turns to look in surprise and shouts in shock before stumbling closer to Tommy.
Tommy quickly notches another arrow and takes aim, shooting another arrow into the same eye. The zombie groans low and pitifully. It trips back slightly before leaning back into its forward slouch and continuing its hobble towards them. Tommy shoots another arrow and this time, it sinks deep into the zombie’s head. It falls to the ground in a slump and stills.
Tubbo nervously glances around once more as Tommy walks towards the now-dead undead. Without another pause, he kicks the green corpse onto its back and stares at it blankly. Crouching down, Tommy takes out another arrow and pokes at it.
“Tommy, we need to get back to camp now. It’s getting too dark,” Tubbo says, surprisingly strong in tone. Tommy half-mindedly shakes his head and continues inspecting the inanimate zombie.
“Mutare cutis et sanare animam. Arctissimum, Arctissimum, Arctissimum,” Tommy murmurs, the words burned into his head at this point. ‘Change the skin and heal your soul. Narrower, narrower, narrower,’. It’s the same word order as the one he babbled for the fox but this time he’s finally got a bit of understanding behind the words instead of brainlessly repeating them. He knows he can’t just jumble random Latin words together, he’s learned that some words feel wrong together, some feel right. It’s like a puzzle that he can’t see but can solve. These words should be working.
Unbeknownst to him and Tubbo, a shimmering enchanting-like light spreads over his eyes and over his hands. Still, the now-familiar burning of his irises begins to set in as he glares down at the body and mentally demands it to fix itself. It should be healing itself in some way. It’s impossible to cure something as deeply rooted as zombification, these mobs have just existed, there’s no before state for them other than nonexistence. And yet, Tommy knows from the fox that he can utilise the very state of being undead.
Instead of knitting skin back up together and raising back up as undead again, the zombie seems to only twitch and seize. Its head spasms only to fall still again. The thick, rotted blood on its face doesn’t move at all. The shoulders twitch, one lifting up and other seeming to dig back into the ground. Tommy frowns as nothing about it seems to heal.
“Sanare animam, mutare animam” Tommy grunts, glaring at the useless thing. He stands up and kicks at its pitifully twitching body. It doesn’t even make a sound, but its whole body shudders before stiffening back up again.
Tubbo desperately grabs onto his arm but Tommy disregards him in favour of screaming at the barely-writhing corpse. It should’ve done something by now, should’ve defied natural laws by now.
“Change, goddamnit! Why aren’t you fucking—” Tommy screams. He wrenches his arm away from Tubbo and begins harshly repeating the spell with fewer pauses. The zombie doesn’t ever do anything more than tremble before falling back into stillness.
“Tommy, whatever you’re trying to do…” Tubbo begins gently, tentatively reaching out to pull at Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy scowls again, eyes still blazing bright into the body.
“It worked before, with that stupid fucking fox,” Tommy explains half-heartedly. The burning behind his eyes curls behind his bottom eyelids and heats up like it’s warming a pot of water. He murmurs another Latin word, willing for something to happen. He just wants it to change.
“Arctissimum mutatis praeteritum et mutatis anima,” Tommy murmurs suddenly, the words forming in his mouth before he can consciously think them to. They flow out smoother than he feels is possible considering he's never said them before. The words from mere moments ago feel stiff in his head now. His chest feels cold and he feels a chill go down his throat and into his gut like he’s drunk chilled water on an empty stomach.
He blinks and the area around him is alight and burning, glowing and rippling with magic like fire in a hearth. Mixes of neon green and lightning white aurora overlap and weave over each other like tectonic plates. Tommy blinks again and the visage is gone. He’s still standing in a clearing with a corpse at his feet and a friend at his back—an unfortunately common occurrence for him now that he thinks about it.
The zombie spasms once more, green skin darkening further. Its fingertips lose what little skin it had left and begin to wither into a darker, blacker colour. Parts of it begin to atomize to something like ash. Chunks of the blackening meat fall to the ground like light charcoal and gradually disintegrate into nothing.
Tommy watches with some awe, some disgust as its bone goes past rotting and into fossilisation. As he stares at the changing skeleton, it almost looks as though its body is elongating, the arms twitch away from the body as though trying to detach itself from the torso but instead of breaking off it only lengthens. It looks a little bit like Skeppy’s skin turning to diamond, only now it’s rotting skin shriveling black and turning to bone.
Its slowly-defining skull twists to face him, neck slowly turning like a rusted cog moving for the first time in a while. Green flesh shrivels dry and falls off the bone thin and paper-like. It stares at him, eye sockets becoming more prominent as seconds fly past, and shifts its jaw.
And before it can be completed in transformation, before Tommy gets to see, Tubbo is pulling him back roughly and another person is rushing forward to hack the body to pieces.
Tommy can feel his heart about to climb out through his chest as he watches Technoblade, again, ruin his, his—
“Stop! What're you doing—” Tommy screeches with an open gaze, arms flailing as he attempts to get closer to it again.
He’s being held back but not like he has before. This time, Tubbo’s arms are wrapped around him and it feels more like he’s being hugged than he is being restrained. Tubbo’s arms wrap around his torso tightly and Tommy’s line of sight breaks from the skeleton as he tries to avoid accidentally hurting his friend. He’s a little pissed, a little angry that Tubbo is interrupting like this. He should’ve expected Techno to be up and stalking them, the nosy fucker but Tommy thought Tubbo would be on his side.
The frustration bleeds into despair as the transmutation on the corpse stops and turns into nothing more than a pile of coal-like skeletal proportions and withered bone on the ground. Techno’s shoulders are stiff and wide as he raises a sword and sinks it into the thing in front of him. Tommy doesn’t know exactly where until suddenly the skull of it rolls away from Techno.
Tommy’s eyes track the movement and stop on the skull. Satisfaction curls over the pressure in his head as fascination over the Wither skull takes over his focus. He grins and twists his head to look at Tubbo. He’s done it, he’s sped up time right in front of their eyes, that should be evident enough for Tubbo.
“See, it worked! It wasn’t what I was going for, but maybe if I used something that wasn’t undead, I can show you properly,” Tommy says, eagerness spiking up in speed.
He stops as Techno’s shoulders raise up irritably, almost shaking in some form of fury before falling back down. Techno remains turned away from them. Tommy’s fingers itch to reach for another arrow.
“Tommy, Tubbo, I’m going to need you two to head back to camp right now. Go to your tent. Act like nothing happened.” Techno says slowly, quiet but heavily leaden with authority. Tommy frowns indignantly, skin still buzzing with the high from the spell.
“It’s my mob, I should be allowed to keep its parts…”
Techno’s tensed weariness suddenly doubles and he abruptly brings a boot down over one of the bones. He proceeds to use his heel to press and grind the section into charcoal-like gravel and dust. He kicks it, lets the dust spread out into something less visible, and then starts again on another portion of bone. It’s louder than Tubbo’s breath next to Tommy’s ear but quieter than the heartbeat in Tommy’s chest. Techno clears his throat.
“Don’t tell Phil or Wilbur about this. Don’t tell any of the Admins either. Don’t tell anyone. We need to hide this,” Techno snaps sharply. The seriousness forces the small animal in Tommy to shrink and recoil. For a short second, Tommy swears he’s back at Techno’s cabin, back to curling up under a table or under the ground. Tommy bites his tongue and nods despite Techno not looking at him. Tubbo tugs at him, and soon Tommy’s being led away from the clearing and back to camp. He’s willingly dragged through the awkward trees. Tubbo glances around like he’s about to walk onto a road and would rather prefer to avoid getting hit by a cart. Alarm and apprehension courses through his veins.
Tubbo has to believe him now.
“So?” Tommy asks, the single syllable question jumps out expectantly.
Tubbo huffs, he looks around and squints before continuing in that direction. Tommy dutifully follows after.
“So what?” Tubbo eventually retorts, sounding almost pissed. Tommy furrows his brows before relaxing his face and smiling.
“You believe me now, right? I can—well, I did time travel,” Tommy says.
Tubbo stops in his stride, and his shoulders rise up shakily and tightly.
“It’s not possible,” Tubbo hisses out. Before Tommy can force Tubbo to turn and face him, Tubbo’s already started walking them back to camp again.
“I just showed you something impossible! I practically condensed and sped up time right there when the zombie all went and withered away into another mob,” Tommy argues, incredulous at Tubbo’s denial.
“That doesn’t prove shit. That wasn’t messing with time, Tommy,” Tubbo says. Tommy frowns again.
“Are you angry with me?” Tommy asks carefully.
“No.”
“You sound angry.”
Tubbo’s grip on Tommy’s wrist tightens and Tommy jolts forward uncomfortably as Tubbo speeds up. When Tubbo doesn't respond, Tommy continues down his original line of convincing.
“I literally made it decay in seconds!” Tommy insists, continuing to argue.
“So? Harming potions basically do the same thing,” Tubbo argues back.
“But that’s different—that’s dark magic,” Tommy whines, albeit lightheartedly.
Tommy twists his wrist and wiggles until Tubbo lets go. Tommy speeds up slightly so he can walk alongside Tubbo. He slips his hand down so they’re simply holding hands. Tubbo quickens in his step, keeping their hands interlaced but also still refusing to look at him, and Tommy is forced to clumsily keep up or he’ll just end up being dragged again.
Tommy waits for Tubbo’s retort. There is none. Tommy clears his throat.
“So yeah, you should believe me. I know your future!” Tommy teases, a tad uncomfortable. Tubbo shrugs jerkily. They walk through the forest in stilted silence for a couple of seconds.
“Let's just get back to the tent,” Tubbo mutters.
“But you believe me now, right? I’m from the future,” Tommy states again, desperate.
“What number am I going to say in the next three seconds?”
“Why the fuck—” Tommy begins to say, a little thrown off, but Tubbo cuts him off.
“Fourteen. See? If you could time travel you would’ve time-traveled to just before I asked that question and would’ve answered. So you’re not a time traveler,” Tubbo says, sounding forcibly haughty and sure of himself. Tommy glares at the side of Tubbo’s head.
“It doesn’t work like that, and I could’ve just correctly guessed!” Tommy says.
“You wouldn’t have to guess if you time-traveled and just answered the question,” Tubbo bickers obnoxiously. Tommy pulses his grasp with Tubbo’s hand and gets an answering pulse. He eases slightly.
“Well, I’m not going to do something like time travel just to answer a question. And we’ve never had this conversation before so I wouldn’t know shit about what you’re going to say next. I’m not an expert on fucking with the flow of time, Tubs’,”
“So you’re not an expert! How would you know you time-traveled? Maybe you’re…” Tubbo swallows nervously and shies further away from him, “Maybe you’re just delusional. Or your Chat is confusing you. That makes more sense than what you’re spewing now,”
Tommy startles, trips almost, but quickly regains his composure.
“What if I don’t have a Chat?” Tommy asks apprehensively.
Tubbo takes a deep breath in.
“You do, so it doesn’t matter. Time travel doesn’t explain you acting batshit.” Tubbo says shakily. His hand untangles from Tommy’s.
Tubbo’s head hones in on their tent. He purposefully strides toward it before he yanks the zipper on it open.
“You hurt my dad, Tommy. You’re—you must be unwell,” Tubbo says, voice subtly higher than normal, face shadowed. He crawls into the tent and stiffly goes through the motions of getting himself under his sleeping blankets.
Tommy chews on his bottom lip. His hands feel clammy and he debates on whether this is something he should keep, something he should let Tubbo think.
“You’re my best friend, Tubbo,” Tommy says softly, willing for Tubbo to suddenly turn around and fully accept what he's told him, for Tubbo to perk up and help somehow.
“You’re mine too. Now shut up and sleep before someone hears you,” Tubbo mumbles instead, turning onto his side.
Tommy shuts up. He doesn’t sleep.
Techno stares at the Wither skull in his hand, freshly plucked from the ground. He’s done his best at dispersing the rest of the skeleton’s remains, he’s crushed as much as he reasonably could and pocketed a few pieces that he couldn’t. He’s kicked dirt and leaf debris over the dust and he’s done his best at erasing any evidence of scuffle left around.
BABY LICH! AND OUR OWN LITTLE YORICK Little Lich playing with corpses SO MUCH POTENTIAL Pretty pretty power WE CAN ACQUIRE CORPSES FOR HIM Ask Tommy to make two more! ASK FOR MORE What was the spell?! STEAL THE SPELL! Oh, Tommy. PERFECT CHILD We can’t kill him now that’s he’s really useful COULD WE KILL HIM AT ALL? Baby baby lich haha!
He presses his thumb flat against the blackened ivory, presses and rubs it in. It’s definitely real. He lifts his thumb and withered soot has transferred onto his thumbpad. His mind flashes back to Tommy’s strong reaction to his Wither joke. Did Tommy know he could do this? He looked so excited just a few moments ago. Techno wonders what led to this. He wonders if the meeting with Dream caused this, if Tommy was vulnerable and if Tommy’s Chat took advantage of that.
He wonders what Tommy whispered into Tubbo’s ear. Techno wonders if they were Tommy’s words or words repeated from voices in his head. He’s so young now, too sporadic. Tommy doesn’t need ‘fixing’ but maybe some discipline in ignoring Chat would be good.
HOW MANY LIVES DOES TOMMY HAVE AGAIN? Three. Maybe more? MAIN CHARACTER MATERIAL Main antagonist material CAN’T BE AN ANTAGONIST UNTIL WE FIND HIM SOMEONE TO ATTACK He’s a baby, no! WE NEED TO SNUFF OUT THE MAGIC He shouldn’t have it I HOPE HE’S ALRIGHT This is the best thing that could’ve happened! THIS IS THE WORST THING THAT COULD’VE HAPPENED! WITHER SOMEONE AWAY Explosions and viscera just for us and Tommy! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD Blood for the Blood God—
It would be so easy to ask Tommy for more skulls. It’d be easy to force them from him. Tommy’s desperate for something, attention most likely. Techno could trade that for explosive Wither power. A supply of Wither skulls as endless as the number of aggressive mobs in the server. So much possible blood. There’s no reason to, though. There aren’t too many people on the server. No one has been rude enough to warrant a Wither before them. It’d be so fun, though.
Blood for the Blood God SKEPPY’S ALWAYS BEEN SO ANNOYING ABOUT PHIL Dream was so mean to your baby brother! SAM WAS RUDE, INVADING YOUR SPACE AND TALKING TO YOU LIKE FRIENDS Bad was acting far too arrogant, we don’t need him to help Tommy! TOMMY WOULD LOVE TO SEE SOME REAL DARK MAGIC Blood for our Blood God! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD We could find a Nether Portal right now. YOU SAID WE WERE GOING HUNTING. WE WANT TO HUNT FOR WITHER SKULLS!
Techno stores the skull away into his inventory and out of sight. Techno’s eyes shut and he lets the faint smell of the Wither bones fade from focus. He repositions his grip on his sword hilt and lets his senses sprawl out for hunting. The stench of rotting zombies and the faint hissing of creepers seep into his head. If Techno can settle for monster blood, Chat will have to as well.
Tommy glares at the words he had written out in his journal. He thought it would’ve worked. It was the words of the spell he’s now calling the Fucked-Up-Fox spell. He doesn’t understand why it didn’t work on the zombie.
Mutare animam et sanare cutis. Arctissimum, Arctissimum, Arctissimum, sanare animam, mutare animam. Change the soul and heal the skin. Knit, narrower, and narrower to heal the soul, change the soul. From what he understands from his shoddy translation and experience with the fox, all the spell should do is undo fatal injuries and reanimate the body as an undead. With the zombie, Tommy had thought that it would’ve even been easier.
The words felt right, too. They slotted into each other satisfyingly and felt like they really were attempting to work. Maybe he was too weak at the time? But then why did—what was with the new configuration slipping through his teeth? It was like the fox all over again.
‘Arctissimum mutatis praeteritum et mutatis anima’ is what he had spoken. The different form of mutare felt natural on his tongue but he’s not sure of what the change in form did to the meaning of the spell. Maybe he’s not considering all the potential translations for each word, maybe he’s completely gotten the meaning wrong. He doesn’t know though. He’s looked through the dictionary he stole from Phil. He’s just been going with the translation that makes the most sense to him. Animam can mean multiple things—life, soul, breath, air. Arctissimum is either narrow or knit, could be a verb or descriptor as both translations. Cutis flips between skin or appearance or shell and each translation has a different connotation. How is he supposed to know the intended translation?
Dream had said he’d gotten it from Schlatt. But Schlatt would’ve abused the book if he understood it, right? Dream never experimented on anyone, did he? Tommy feels like he would’ve known, somehow.
Tommy remembers what it felt like to be dead and then brought back. The spell Dream had recited to revive him was long, it has to be. And Tommy was lucky somehow. The words he’d stolen and repeated from Dream are only a portion of a full resurrection spell and yet they were enough to send him hurling back in time.
Speaking the lines with Dream had felt awful and exhilarating. It had felt like the air in the cell was condensed and folded over more than eight times. It was like something was filling him with much-needed breath while simultaneously stabbing ice picks through his eyelids. Maybe he is too weak—at least right now. The words that had incited time-travel stick uselessly in the back of his throat when he opens his mouth, about to whisper them. He closes his mouth and swallows it down.
He and Dream…they did the spell together. But Dream wasn’t sent back. Terrified doubt rises in Tommy momentarily but he squashes it away violently. Dream would’ve hunted him down or would’ve already hurt him. The Dream he’s familiar with would’ve stuck him in a hole or on an island by now. This Dream doesn’t feel nearly as insane as his so-called friend Dream.
Tommy is by himself. He’s safe. Dream didn’t follow him. Dream doesn’t know anything at all. Dream’s not obsessed yet, not intent on ruining his life. Dream’s only academically interested now. If anything, Dream’s just a normal, friendly-but-pushy server owner. Tommy’s the smarter, more aware, one in this situation now. But Dream’s got something he wants, not discs but magical knowledge. The key to true and full safety.
Putting on an antic disposition went smoothly enough for him. Playing apprentice shouldn’t be hard at all.