Chapter Text
“Your footfalls must be light, and quick. Oh little Red,” The old woman crowed, “these woods are filled with much worse things than wolves," - Spruce Forest Folk Tales, a collection of short stories popularly told in Spruce Villages. Written down by @pyrodrew.
Tubbo can’t remember much about his old home, but he remembers the window in the prayer room always being open, despite the storms. He knows that he asked why, and that someone very important to him simply told him that it was so the wind knew it was invited in. It’s hard to explain that they never got any cold drafts because of this, when people argue it could’ve been anything else.
Here is what he does remember, at the very least. He remembers how the wind helped him flee, how the air tickled his neck when he slowed, having circulated air in his lungs to keep him running.
He remembers watching the wind lift up leaves, and he tries to catch them in the air. Slowly, they guide him off the path deeper into the woods. They guide him to a cottage covered in moss that greets him warmly as he steps in.
The wind holds no judgement, a soft caress against his cheeks and secrets that wrap around his ears and settle in his brain. Secrets of potions and enchantments, of two higher beings that watch all players, like him.
The wind tells him he is loved. Tubbo simply smiles, and shakes his head.
See, this is his first mistake - because nature plays its favorites and keeps them close.
Tubbo is five when he first hears the wind’s voice. It’s a high melody, clear but a whisper at the forefront of his mind. But the wind doesn’t like talking, it prefers to swirl around and float between the windchimes that hang outside the cottage doors.
The cottage, as he has been reminded of many times, is magic. To keep him safe, protected from the world that awaits.
“What do I have to fear?” He asks, full of naivety. The wind stops, and settles for once. It swirls gently against his cheek, and settles in his hair.
“Child,” It croons, “you have it all."
(When you’re going to befriend the wind, first you must treat it with respect, and you have to play with it when it calls. And it calls more often than you would think.)
People believe Earth is just dirt, but they’re wrong. Earth is nature, and in order to befriend it, you first have to accept it.
Tubbo runs barefoot, mud getting between his toes as the trees shudder and flowers bloom at his feet.
The young child runs along, as the woods come to life around him.
The earth likes speaking more than the wind. It tells him stories of the things it has witnessed, the blood that has stained it’s roots. He grows up with tales of heroes and villains, all their secrets and reasons shown because you can’t hide your secrets from nature.
He grows with the inherent understanding of the grey scale. That there’s a cycle in life and one that he, himself grows in and learns from. Tubbo plants trees for every single one that meets its end at his axe.
Tubbo is sitting quietly under a tree when the earth hums him a lullaby.
After it goes silent, having hummed for minutes before coming to a stop, he closes his eyes, and repeats the melody with his own voice. It takes a while for the earth to hum again with him. He hides his smile, but he’s very glad to have another friend.
“Why do you sing with me?” It asks him, once they stop humming. Tubbo is quiet, eyes still closed. He is only four years old. He cannot find some deeper meaning for humming back. “You’re good at singing. I like your songs," He mumbles back, examining the blades of grass.
The earth is quiet at this. “It’s funny,” it says after a long silence, “I don’t think anyone ever told me that,"
Tubbo lays his head in the grass. “That’s a shame,” he says. The earth is quiet, but flowers sprout up next to him. Part of him wants to speak again, to ask endless questions. Yet he holds his tongue, because sometimes, the silence is nice too.
Mud is a constant. He loves running through it. His clothes are dirty, however, but he doesn’t care. Flowers constantly bloom around his little cottage and bees flutter around like butterflies. The earth is more talkative than the wind, though the wind and earth tend to mix their words.
The sound of leaves rustling, and tree branches swaying. Birds chirp to him, as they take off into the sky. When it rains, he can take cover under mushrooms and dance in the mud when the rain passes. It is a beautiful world that the Earth provides, and Tubbo is not ashamed to scream it out to the spirit.
The earth grins at him, mysterious and secretive. The trees whisper its message, “Young boy….I am capable of horrors you can’t imagine,"
(If you’re planning on befriending the earth, first you must be kind. You have to listen when it wants to speak, but first tell your own story. The earth already knows, but it loves to listen anyways.)
The boy stands on the sandy shore, his toes playing in the grains. The water laps over his feet, and he runs into it.
The sea likes to laugh. He whispers jokes to it, and it responds in kind. The waves never get violent, but they lick at his knees and dance with his toes. He takes a deep breath and dives in. The currents take him to kingdoms made of coral, to families made of fish, and homes made from rock.
He meets a salmon named Sally, who smiles at him and shows him the streams and her homes. The sea is of many words, but it never speaks them in that moment. Instead it speaks to him through it’s waves, and tells him of the adventure that it has seen.
It warns him of sailors and pirates, of men and their greed. It has drowned many.
When Tubbo leaves, the sea gifts him with a shell. It’s a cone shell, one that carries its voice. He wears it around his neck.
When it rains, instead of hiding he dances with the storm, jumping when lightning hits from its anger and grief. When he asks why it cries, the storm only chuckles while water pours on to the earth, reforming and shaping.
“Sometimes it’s all you want to do, my whirlpool. And when the tides claim the lands again I will show you the glory of letting it all sweep out," the droplets purr, as they drain the warmth of his skin.
He tries hard not to judge the spirits, but water never shies away from the topic of death, never shies away from its dangerous ways. “You mortals need me, yet it’s so easy to drown within me. It’s a confusing mix, you fragile beings,"
Tubbo smiles confusedly, never truly understanding.
(You might want to befriend the sea by first only respecting. Never take what it doesn’t offer, but you may always ask for something. But the most important rule is to respect - for it is not often that the sea chooses to befriend you. But if you want to speed up the process, a sand castle is a good place to start.)
The spirits are content to live, to simply be. Tubbo is used to having a good time, as he dances in the earth and sings with the wind and sobs with the rain.
It's during this time of peace and quiet that he gets his hands on his first book. Tubbo tries to read, really, he does. Wind is the only one who knows how to read, however, and it's not the best at teaching. Plus, the words mix and swirl across the page, but he makes do with what he can get.
Wind reads to him anyways, but it’s the writing that gets to him. This book is about a type of magic, a skill called hacking. And something in him wants to learn it so badly that he spends so much time outside, it ends with him getting sick.
But still, no matter how painfully slow, he learns how to tear his hands against the invisible veil and claim the powers of a god for himself.
The spirits preen at his ability, when he shows them. Wind is ever so slightly sad, because it’ll be the end of their reading time, but he stumbles across another book. This one has a swirl on it, and when Tubbo goes to ask the spirit to read it to him, it reacts strangely.
“No, youngling, this story is best saved for someone else to tell," The spirit responds. Earth reacts more negatively to the book than the wind does, and that’s rare.
In fact, the Earth reacts so negatively that it sprouts a vine and throws the book out of the woods. Tubbo goes to run for it, since it’s someone’s book and that’s rude. The vine trips him and the earth places it’s first restriction - “You may never, never open one of those books! And never leave these woods!”
The young boy sees a flower tattoo loop around his upper arm, as his eyes start to flutter shut. He’s sure he’s hit his head on something, but he’s too tired to investigate.
When he awakes, the earth says many, many apologies. With a strained smile, he accepts the apology and learns to move on from it. The earth gifts him with a new book, one about potions and herbs. It doesn’t take long for him to become obsessed with the item, consuming all it’s knowledge until there is nothing else to learn.
(When you befriend a spirit you have to understand - they don’t feel the things you do.)
He makes a large farm, full of all the different plants he can get his grimy little hands on. Then, there’s the bee hives and he makes campfires. Tubbo takes lands and bends it to his will, and Earth grins.
Then the water hands him a soggy book, full of descriptions of something called redstone. “Sally had it. She gave it to me, since you like listening to the books," Tubbo accepts it with a smile, and has the wind read it. Within the week, his farm is fully automated.
There’s not much to do anymore, so he explores the woods. There’s a creek that runs straight through the woods, and a village just at the end of it. The greenery protects him from ever being seen when people transverse through his land, cutting down more trees than they need. Tubbo will always grab the saplings and replant all the trees they rudely cut down.
He asks the earth if it hurts when the humans cut down the trees. It laughs, and the trees shake. “No - never. Humans can try all they want, they can not kill me in a way that matters. Not when they are me,"
The child learns about mobs, and when it rains, he trains. The earth has seen more bloodshed out of the spirits, but refuses to partake in it. Water, however, is a lot more willing.
It doesn’t hold back when they spar. It is hard to describe what the spirits look like, they change their forms so often it’s hard to tell what they ever truly look like. However, their faces are never truly shown.
And, they never tell Tubbo their names either.
Apparently it’s a weird rule, one that Tubbo has to follow as well. He usually just doesn’t think about it, never really having anyone to give his name out to until the day.
When Tubbo hears the crash, it’s certainly startling. In all his seven years of existing, he has never heard another player so close to his house. Of course, he immediately runs towards the sound because while he loves the spirits very much, they’re too destructive to be good company.
So, that’s how Tubbo meets the boy. His hair is parted black and white, looking really cool. And his face! It’s half and half too! It’s a perfect split, so much so that Tubbo stares at the kid for a while.
“Aren’t you going to help heal him?” The wind whispers, and the young boy groans. The other boy is stupidly taller than him, and he has to drag him all the way to his cobblestone cottage. That’s so stupid. Regardless, he throws the boy’s arms around his shoulders and lugs the body all the way to his hut. It’s stupid how hard it is. Tall people, Tubbo decides, are the worst thing to exist.
It takes a day or two for the boy to wake up.
He doesn’t remember his name, doesn’t know where he came from, and doesn’t understand what’s going on. Tubbo hates how much he can relate.
The cottage is smaller with another person, but they try to make it work. Tubbo guides the kid through working with the soil, and the boy eventually starts his own pumpkin farm. Green and red eyes follow him as he moves books around and instead has his roommate read aloud to him.
It’s when they walk past the place that Tubbo first found his friend does he realise what his friend’s name shall be. “Twig! That’s your name! Because you’re so. You know! You!” His friend stops, turns around, and stares.
“That’s, Tubbo, pal, that’s not a name, it’s a noun-” The deep sound of his voice carries over while Tubbo starts lugging the branch towards the house. “Plus, that’s not even a twig, it’s a tree limb, and calling me twig is rude-”
“But it fits! You’re so skinny and," Tubbo sends his friend a look. “Tall,"
“You say that like it’s a bad thing!”
“Because it is!”
Tubbo likes to bicker with his friend. Till one day when he wakes up he doesn’t remember a thing.
“Twig?”
“....Who’s Twig?”
Regardless, they adjust. Tubbo walks to the stream and gathers sugarcane and leaves, while the Earth guides him a deceased cow. He says his thanks and walks away with a full pouch.
It’s with these items that he crafts a very special book, the pages and cover having enchantments weaved into them and stuff full of magic they shouldn’t have. When he gifts Twig with it, his best friend hugs him so hard that the young boy is lifted off the ground but all he stutters is nonsensical comforts.
It’s after that does he introduce Twig to his friends.
The wind and Twig get along well. They like to chase each other, and the wind loves to lift the skinny boy up and make him jump. Twig always shouts with surprise and will turn around to scold the wind but you can’t scold something that refuses to listen.
And Earth is indifferent, but respects the boy nonetheless. It makes sure Twig’s pumpkins are plump and fresh, and on days where Twig cries and burns his face with his tears, the earth whispers stories that Tubbo never hears.
Twig is content to write these all, and all is fine.
And then there comes the day where it rains.
Water - water isn’t kind to Twig. It’s not kind to anything that shares Twig’s features, tall and skin black as night, eyes that glow in the dark. When there were light showers, Twig would stay inside while Tubbo danced, until that fateful day.
No warning, for there was no wind. Just the unheard pleas of Earth to get inside and bunker away. But suddenly the sky thunders and there is water rushing down and Twig is burning. The sea doesn’t let them go inside - water forms into their physical form and screams the harshest things while Tubbo drags Twig to take shelter under a mushroom.
(The sea is temperamental. It cares not for kindness for the beings that make it seethe, so always be wary that you never get in it’s way. Because if you do - well. The rain can sting.)
“That thing,” The storm shouts at Tubbo, “is not to be trusted! Not it’s fellow beings, not anything like it!” It takes an hour of the young boy pleading for the storm to stop, to take it’s wrath out on him, not his friend.
And the water takes his offer. “You want to defend him? Fine then! Take his pain, take his grief, take it all! Drown in this sorrow, boy, but don’t come crying!”
And Tubbo does. At the ripe age of seven, Tubbo drowns in the water’s grief and rage at the world and the humans who didn’t love it until they thought they tamed it, at the grief of those upon sinking ship, at the greed of those who transverse from server to server in hopes of causing hurt, only to drown.
Tubbo takes all those feelings and burns, but never cries.
(Here is the thing about befriending the sea - it will hurt you. It will cut you and then rub salt in the wound only to heal you the next day with assurances of safety and care.)
When the young boy wakes the next day, his best friend is holding onto his hand like a prayer, despite the fact they’re wet. He makes Twig let go - but the damage is already done. His black and white hands have burn scars that are so, so frightening to look at.
An infection only makes them worse. He gifts his friend with gloves and wraps his hands tightly in healing slauves, but he never sees the scars healed.
The water spirit is kinder after the blow up. No rain hits Ranboo’s skin, instead, there is ancient protected armour that acts as a barrier. And in them, hints of an apology are found. Of course the spirits can’t apologize like normal - that’d make too much sense for them.
Tubbo learns that Twig is protected from the rain in his protected armour, and so they dance with the storms now. The young boys will sloppily swing in circles with each other, holding hands as they spin around until they collapse into the mud.
And then Twig will burst out laughing, and Tubbo will join, and the storm thunders along, the water’s own laughter swirling around them.
Twig prefers dancing with the wind, of all the spirits. They dance and they run, letting swirling breezes carry dry leaves into their hair. Plus wind tends to pick up more than it rains in the summer, so life is good.
Tubbo smiles as Twig swings him around, unable to hide the scream of excitement that leaves his throat. The village just outside is expanding. And with expansion comes cutting away at the thick woods that protect them.
Tubbo and Twig continue. They dance, they plant, and they laugh.
But Twig is still nervous.
“Aren’t you nervous too? This village could be awful or hate us or hurt you or me or-” Twig goes on, playing with his gloves while Tubbo starts pulling the honey frames out and slowly scraping the honey into glass bottles.
“Dude, don’t worry about it! Earth would never let them find us, and we can always try and make peace," Tubbo rests the basket full of jars on his hip, and looks back at his silly friend.
Twig fiddles with his gloves instead of making eye contact. It hurts - usually Twig meets his eyes, but Tubbo understands it’s difficult for his friend. “You think so?”
He smiles, grabbing his friend’s wrist and leading him inside. “I promise, Twig,"
It’s a warm summer, so they spend more time outside. However, Twig insisted he was healthy enough to gather the crops and deal with the bees, so Tubbo was content to brew today. The window was wide open, and Tubbo could feel the gentle breeze fanning his face as he looked out to the sky. Dark clouds rose on the woods, and Tubbo squinted his eyes.
Usually they’d get a warning when something like this was happening - Tubbo squints harder and sees it. Flames.
Brown eyes widening, he abandons his post and runs to the door. “Twig, Twig, get in there’s fire, Twig come-” The wind picks up around his house but fire is leaping towards Twig, his friend, his buddy.
Earth pops up more trees, trying to slow the flames but Twig isn’t close enough. Wind circles the house and there’s a pulling and he’s being pushed away from the door, but Twig is taking so damn long to get to the house.
A tree falls, and then his house is picked up by the wind and he’s gone.
One moment he’s watching as the tree falls, the look on Twig’s face as he turns around, and then he is in new woods, alone.
He doesn’t speak for a few days. There’s no one to talk to, not anymore. It’s when he’s gathering berries during the night do the trees suddenly part enough for him to see the stars. The stars that do not judge him as he sobs, the stars that say nothing but hold him when he begs for his friend back, the stars that give him a smile when the sun comes out and tells him that he - along with the other players - that he is their child. That he is their universe, and they can’t wait to see what he does. They press kisses to his tears and tell him that even when no one is left, they will remain.
They can not wait to hold him again.
(You can’t befriend the stars - because they already love you. I think they created us players - made us into the people we know today. I wouldn’t be surprised - even though I’ve talked to them at least three times, I think they’re the closest things we have to gods, besides Admins and Mojang.)
Tubbo settles in again. The wind tumbles back and after many nights of arguing and anger, he welcomes the spirits back into his home. He is ten and he is so, so tired of arguing. Looking into the small lake that is close to his new home, he sees an unrecognizable face. He tries his best to ignore it.
Ultimately, his homeless child look is not lost on the blonde man who is currently dying outside of his face. Adjusting his green button up, he nudges the man with his foot. “Are you dead, sir?”
The man stares at him, blue eyes uncomprehending. “I’m supposed to be alone in this world - did I die for the last time? Are you a spirit?”
Tubbo ignores the way that the wind whispers that this man doesn’t deserve to meet spirits, and drags him inside. He’s finding that hurt people have a way of making their way to his house, and he’s not sure if he likes it.
It’s hard to drag what looks like a middle aged man into his house, and even harder to get him to swallow the healing potions. This ends in Tubbo straight up dumping potions onto the man instead, because it is approximately three in the morning, and the spirits don’t like this guy anyways.
A vine slithers into the room, and glares at the man. “It seems you still refuse to die, Philza," The Earth hisses. He squints at the plant, and turns to the almost deceased adult.
“I’m not getting the middle of this weird, multicentry argument. Goodnight. Please don’t die on my carpet," Tubbo announced, climbing into his bed. It takes a moment of listening to the groans of whoever is in his living room before sleep finally beckons.
He wakes up to the smell of something cooking. Tubbo panics for a moment, running into the living room only to see a man with wings.
That’s not weird. That’s not suspicious. Totally, this situation is the most normal thing in the world.
He awkwardly sits down at the table, because if he was in danger the spirits would surely warn him. But they don’t, so Tubbo sits at the table and watches. The blond man makes something - he thinks it might be pancakes, and turns around to face him.
“So - I woke up here and last I remember was on death’s door,” The older man begins, and the boy feels his face scrunch up.
Tubbo hates to interrupt, but he really ought to. “Not really sir- you could’ve been fine if you grabbed echinacea. I believe there is a bit of it in these woods, though I’m not sure. Your wounds weren’t that bad."
The blonde man looks at him oddly, and a blush comes to his face. He misses Twig, Twig wasn’t a stranger or weirdly intimidating. The winged man nods, and gives a warm smile. He tries to return it, though confused.
“You know a lot about healing, did your parents teach you?” He places a pancake in front of the boy, and sits in Twig’s place. His heart aches, but it was bound to happen. Feeling shy, he shakes his head.
“I don’t really have parents. I used to have a...friend," The man raises his eyebrow at Tubbo, he does not explain. The memory of Twig is his, and his alone. He will not lend over bits of his soul to a man who is rumored to be without one.
“Ah. Well, my name is Philza Minecraft. I have a home not too far away, with three boys," The man says, as if it’s an invitation. Tubbo stares at green eyes, and then looks to the window.
Clearing his throat, he nods. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Minecraft," That is a name with weight. Being named Minecraft, after the very earth. It’s not a name made by him, it has the aura of a name that was earned.
Philza Minecraft is his identity. This is a more serious matter than this man realizes - Tubbo can already feel the fae in the woods hungrily grasping at his protective circle. If he doesn’t help this man then some mythical creature will eat him alive.
At the same time, Mr. Minecraft reeks of power. It is obvious he is no stranger to the forest’s tricks. Mojang above, he wishes the spirits could guide him now. Tubbo should’ve left a window open. He could’ve sworn there was a window left open last night.
It’s rude not to return the favor of giving over his name, especially after what Mr. Minecraft said. “My name is Tubbo."
Philza puts his hand out for a handshake. It’s awkward, the whole situation is awkward. This table was at the very least designed for Twig and Tubbo, so Philza isn’t having to sit too uncomfortably, but his house was not designed for wings.
With the man’s wounds not being fully healed, he insists that the man stays ever so slightly longer. In this time, Tubbo keeps a careful eye on the blonde. When a storm blows in, it’s the first time that the blonde man is ever left alone in the house.
Tubbo feels the water hits his skin and feels at ease. It’s basically muscle memory to spin around and jump, to feel alive. It’s so freeing to grieve with the storm’s rage and anger, that Tubbo slips up and lets his rage and grief and anger mix with the storm’s.
It takes his anger. It fests on his grief and when he falls to the mud it’s not victory but confusion. Because he’s never felt the water grip onto something and take it from him before. Before he can question it, Philza runs out into the storm and grabs Tubbo.
Feathers are puffed up, and when he gets inside, Philza immediately gets him dry. Tubbo feels numb to care, and doesn’t feel the usual anger and distrust. The man is helping him, there’s no reason to fight back, right?
His inaction seems to worry the man more. The man tenderly puts his hand on Tubbo’s head, but the boy does not lean into the warmth.
Despite the warmth of the cabin, he’s cold.
“Did it take?” The man asks very quietly.
Brown eyes meet green, and Phil holds him tightly. “It took - I’m so sorry, it took something didn’t it?”
(Here’s the real con to befriending the spirits, every relationship is give and take, right? I don’t have a problem with it, usually, but sometimes your friends can take things that you can’t get back, and that’s okay! I mean it happens with humans too I guess… I’ve lost a lot of things for my friends, but the spirits always make it up to me. My friends too! Just - if you’re out to befriend the spirits, you have to be careful. Because they can take very, very important things from you, no matter how small it can seem.)
The Earth tells him to go with Phil. Tubbo explains that it would make logical sense, and for some reason the wind gets upset.
“Aren’t you angry?” It whispered, and the boy was confused. Why should he be mad?
“Don’t bring him into this," the earth warns, but the swirling wind isn’t settled. Idly, Tubbo watches as small rocks are lifted into its swirl.
There’s a loud whoosh, and the wind continues it’s rage. “He needs to be brought into this, it was his, he didn’t give, he didn’t ever take from us.”
A crack forms in front of Tubbo, a ravine opening. He quickly backs up, scrambling from the edge. Oh dear, hopefully Phil doesn’t notice it. The man will be returning to pick Tubbo up, he just left to grab some items from his house on the small server.
It’s a loud boom that causes him to pay attention to the spirits. “We are spirits - we will always take what we want from mortals!”
“How dare you! He is more than that - we both know it! ” The wind angrily replies.
“It is fate! There are things that must happen for the course of existence and you know it! Do not let attachment blur our goals!" The gap grows wider, but if Tubbo leaves he wouldn’t be able to listen any further.
“You’re raising a sheep for the slaughter!”
“It is the only way! Would you just listen for once?”
The earth spreads wider, and Tubbo hurriedly tries to get away, but he isn’t fast enough.
The fall is going to hurt, but instead he finds wind lifting him up. A rumble echoes underneath, and he’s dropped on a soft bed of grass.
It’s rare that the spirits will take forms, often just using their natural state, or some kind of animal in their domain, or just plain whispering, but for once, the earth stands before him.
A hand caresses his cheek, roughened from the work of shaping land. Flowers bloom at the figure’s feet, and Tubbo knows already who the spirit is.
“Hello, Earth," The boy says, because it’s important to have manners. Even if you’ve known the spirit for your whole life. Tubbo goes to meet the spirit’s eyes, but stops himself. The spirits have no face, it’s just a place where a face should be, so it’s hard to describe their emotions, but he just understands. It’s as simple as that, a connection formed from the very start of his creation.
The spirit is sad, but full of love. “Hello, my flower," It whispers, holding him in a hug.
There’s a gasp, and a breeze circles and weaves between. “Oh earth - how the mighty fall. Is he-?” Tubbo doesn’t hear the rest, falling asleep in the arms of the spirit that is the very thing that he exists on.
(Looking back, it's hard to see how naive I was. The spirits always have a grand plan, I guess. But that doesn’t make them care any less, I think it shows how they care more. They knew I was to be doomed from the very start, they really should’ve cared less. But they loved me anyways - really shows how different spirits are from humans.)
The first time Tubbo goes on a ship, it’s with Phil. The man leads him over to a registry, where players usually get information about their ranks or worlds they can visit. This trip is a bit different, since it’s the first time Tubbo is getting registered.
A girl takes him away from Phil, and he doesn’t fuss because it’s private information. Of course Phil can’t be there. She praises him for his level headed thinking, calling him mature. “You’re going to be a great player, one day. Why, I bet my third life that you’ll become popular in no time! Now, what’s your age, sweetheart?”
He thinks for a second. “I believe I’m eleven, miss," Tubbo answers, and the woman nods, writing the information down. On her shirt, there’s an official badge of Mojang. Tubbo stares at it, while the sound of her pencil writing in her book echoes.
The woman snaps the book shut, and gives him a smile. “Alright, so Philza said your name was Tubbo? Any special letters, numbers, characters we should know about? This will be how people identify you,"
It causes him to wonder for a second if he has anything to his name. There’s nothing beyond Tubbo, just a blank space. There’s a word for a blank space, right? It’s an underscore.
“It’s Tubbo. Tubbo Underscore, ma’am,"
With the quick movement of a quill, it’s official. “It is a pleasure to register you, Tubbo Underscore! If you have any problems with other players, traveling, or the world glitches because of pesky spirits, you can contact us using your communicator,"
She hands him a small device, shaped like a tablet. “All you need is to enter your gamertag, which is your name, and then use something so that it will only recognize you. Once the registration is complete, you’ll be hooked onto the internet, and the rest of the servers,"
This is all very mystifying, and as he watches the code load once he hits enter, Tubbo is entered into a whole different level. At first hacking couldn’t get him far, but now? There’s a whole system at his disposal.
There’s a chat button, and Tubbo stares at all the information, trying to process. “Alrighty! Is there a parent or guardian you want us to list?” The woman asks, giving him a smile. He stalls at that.
Tubbo doesn’t have parents, and he doesn’t want to dump Phil with the responsibility of a child that isn’t his. “Just put down um…” Tubbo looks around, and then at his lap.
“I...don’t have anyone. Mr. Minecraft is just helping me," There’s a silence, and then the typing of the woman. “I’m sorry to hear that young man, but do you want to know something?”
She leans in, like they’re sharing a secret. “Your account can be updated at any time. I’m sure you’ll find someone who can fulfill that spot. C’mon, kiddo. You’re all ready to travel, we just have to do one more thing. We can grab Phil for this part,"
They stop by to grab Philza, who gives Tubbo a reassuring smile as they walk into the room. There’s a device, and even the worker seems to give him a sad smile. “This device helps us discern how many lives you have! The base is three, and you will most likely have three. You can die three times, but on the third time, you unfortunately won’t come back. But don’t worry! This resets and can change depending on the server you're on. Most old servers have it so that your lives don’t change, but it can be hard for new lands to be changed."
She’s trying to distract him with rambling, because apparently getting your number of lives tattooed hurts. It hurts so much that his distress is causing the spirits to become distressed, with the howling sound of wind pushing against the flimsy window.
Once it’s over, Tubbo is crying and Phil holds him close.
“Oh the poor dear. Give him this lollipop, would you? It’ll help the pain go away," She hands Philza a green pop, and then guides them out. It feels odd to be carried, held close to another human being.
The spirits are not warm, but Philza is.
(The spirits aren’t very cuddly, I’m afraid. There’s nothing really to cuddle, after all.)
The ship that they go on is very grand. Usually, they could just teleport to the server hub and go from there, but Philza is hesitant to do that since Tubbo was only just registered.
A woman who shares the qualities of a sheep introduces herself to them, and bends down to shake Tubbo’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you little guy! My name is Puffy," When they set sail, Puffy allows him to climb up to the lookout and stare at the world of water. It’s memorizing to watch the different colors and the calm sea the entire ride.
Puffy brings the sail back, and steers into a port. “Alright Philza! This is the server hub, can’t take you much further than that,"
The sheep hybrid ruffles Tubbo’s hair, and he can’t help but smile. There’s a small moment of longing, but it’s quickly swept away as Phil guides him off the boat.
The older man leaves him in a chair, and Tubbo stays there like ordered. He watches the players pass by with a new sense of awe. The trees that are near the bench whisper to him, Earth telling him about the adventures of different players.
When Phil comes back, Tubbo stares for a moment longer at the docks. He’s going to miss his old world, with his mossy cobblestone home. But it’s just the way things go. Fate is a fickle thing, and all the boy can do is let himself be pulled along.
The portal to the private server is closed off from the rest of the hub, and it’s a strange kind of glow that Tubbo has never seen before. When they step through, he finds himself in a very developed land, different from any he’s seen before.
Beautiful hills, grass that looks like each flower was placed for purpose and intent. The sun is high in the sky, a sharp contrast to the dawn of the Server Hub. Tubbo lets himself be pulled along by Phil as he stares at the beautiful world, when suddenly he hears shouts.
“Phil!” “Dad!” Two voices shout, and the blonde man is forced to let go of the brunette’s hand in order to catch the running boys. One of them has brown hair, and another is blonde like Phil’s.
Tubbo watches the scenery, making sure to give the family their space. Even in the cottage, all Phil could talk about was his sons, and how he adored them. But he mostly talked about a boy named Technoblade, and his other son Wilbur.
Infact, the most he knew about Philza’s youngest was that they were almost the same age. Tubbo looks at the blond and understands the disconnect between the father and son and what caused it: nothing about this kid is human.
Tubbo is eleven and a half when he meets the reincarnation of the fire spirit. All the other spirits don’t die, like fire. Earth will remain earth, air will always flow, water is a cycle, but fire? Fire will burn, fire will last, and then it will burn out.
Blue eyes meet brown ones, and the brunette gives a small smile. The blonde pulls away from the hug, and walks over to Tubbo. He puts his hand out, to shake. Of course, the other boy is taller than him, but he still shakes the outstretched hand.
“I’m Tommy Innit! Who the fuck are you?” There’s no hesitation in the way the boy wrapped around Phil immediately whips up to shoot Tommy a glare, but Tubbo’s too distracted with the big grin coming over his face.
“Hello, Tommy Innit! My name is Tubbo. It’s a pleasure to meet you," he bows, but is stopped by the other boy starting to pull him down the road, guiding him to the complex farm set up.
Something inside him shifts, the world outside shifts. Even though fire will die, it will always spark to life in the lungs of a mortal who will do so much.
The eleven year old is well aware that he will be a footnote in the history books. But this boy? Tommy, pulling him by his wrist to his home, having already accepted him as one of his own, will be the centerpiece of a story.
They tumble into a home that’s hanging on by a thread, and Tubbo feels himself relax.
The next few days are peaceful. Or, close to it. Tommy is constantly running around, causing chaos. Wilbur, the older one, follows him around. Tubbo learns that you can never leave Tommy alone for long.
But, when Tommy goes into the woods he’s afraid to follow. Every time he’s entered a forest, the Earth’s anger flows through his veins again. But when the blonde boy stares at him, expecting him to follow, he can’t help but follow.
At the end of the day, he’s just a yes man.
His mistake shows through the moment the trail opens up deeper into the woods. He tries to stop Tommy, but the faded tattoo of the flowers stops him. There is something to happen, here and now, and Tubbo can do nothing but watch.
They walk for what feels like a mile. Tubbo can already tell that the Earth spirit is guiding them, but to what? Tubbo keeps asking himself, before he hears Tommy shout. It’s a surprising sound compared to the quiet of the forest. It’s not like Tommy’s normal shout, it sounds pained. He runs over, having fallen behind with his confusion. He gives a sigh of relief once he realizes the boy simply tripped on a branch, it’s nothing big, until the ground underneath them collapses.
Tubbo holds onto Tommy, keeping the boy protected with his body. He wants to be angry, but he’s not sure why he’s surprised.
When he awakes, there’s something different about the way Tommy holds his head. Everything hurts, aching in the worst way. Through his blurred vision, he only just sees that they’re in a cobblestone room. Something is burning however.
The ceiling is ripped open, and as he tries to make sense of the blue skies he sees before him, the faint sound of yelling becomes apparent to him.
“We need to go, please just get up, we have to go,” Tommy’s voice echoes in his head, but he can’t process them. He knows what the boy is saying, but he can’t think straight. Tubbo simply allows himself to be dragged as the smell of rotten flesh burns his nose.
There’s a few moments of silence before a wave of heat hits Tommy and him. Or, at least he’s assuming the person who’s holding him is his friend, because he’s getting really tired. Tommy is shouting something, but words have lost their meaning.
It’s two minutes of sudden bursts of heat, before there’s a sound of something dropping into wherever the heck they are. He can feel Tommy relax against him, and is content to let sleep slowly take over him.
Though, he hears a weird name shouted before he finally passes out. “Technoblade! You came-”
Waking up is a problem. When sweet, beloved consciousness finally returns, all he can focus on is the ache that covers his entire body. Along with the warm pressure on his side, but he’s too busy trying to make sense of the ceiling in front of him.
While he’s trying to settle his pounding head, gray eyes meet his. Oh, Wilbur is here. The cold cloth on his head is removed, and the elder gingerly helps him sit up. The man starts checking him over, before taking a step back and giving him a smile.
“Nothing too bad besides bruises - thank you for protecting Tommy during the fall,"
Tubbo is too busy staring at the place where the flower tattoo was. His skin is unmarred. Bruised, but there’s no longer a mark. He's free.
Wilbur gently dries his tears, reassuring him that he did what he could in that scary situation. Really, he should be listening but all Tubbo can focus on is that whatever he did released him.
When Tommy wakes up, he gets an earful about how the “amazing Technoblade” saved them. At the very least, Tommy got some discs out of the situation. The blonde declares that green represents Tubbo, and the other disc represents him. The two discs, and Tommy emphasizes this very carefully, that the discs can never be separated. It’s supposed to be an analogy to their friendship or something. Tubbo likes Cat the most, the one that Tommy has indicated as his disc counterpart. There’s something in that song that makes Tubbo feel connected to it, and he feels the warmth from Tommy as the boy holds his disc.
(Another weird quirk from befriending spirits is that you can inherit certain… magical stuff from them. In my situation, I ended up just like that one story about some guy named Meleager. Funny, huh? Well, actually it’s really not but it’s just one of those things haha..)
Wilbur and Tommy are the only ones in the house. Apparently, before he awoke, Philza left. After this, Tubbo starts dragging Tommy into the woods more. He doesn’t have to fear getting trapped, he can show off all the flora he got to know well.
“And this is a lion mane mushroom, which really shouldn’t be here, actually I don’t think they should-”
“Tubbo?” The boy turns to look at his companion, who is currently staring at him with narrowed eyes.
He stops gesturing to the amazing shroom, because he’s getting the sense Tommy is about to talk shit. “Yeah, Toms?”
As expected, the bizarre ways of Tommyinnit strike again. “This is number 38,"
“And?”
For his troubles of introducing Tommy to the colourful world around him, the blonde drops from the tree branch and puts his head in his hands. “Please. You’ve gone on about mushrooms for two hours. Tubbo, for Prime’s sake, they’re plants!"
“That’s rude," Tubbo frowns, turning to the mushroom again. “It’s pretty! I think its name is Johnathan. Say sorry to Johnathan, Tommy. You hurt its feelings."
He hears a loud groan, and the boy sits next to him. Tubbo turns to his friend, a smile on his face. “It’s not that bad, Tommy! Really just think about it, this little guy is so cool. All of these plants you have are super cool. Ooo- maybe we can find lavender?”
Tommyinnit is never surprised. He will shout and scream and kick if some dumbass ever tries to claim he’s easily amused. But right now? He’s not ashamed to say he’s amazed. Tubbo has a talent for finding the strangest fucking shit.
Like, Tommy’s been around this forest many times. But Tubbo, who moved in around two months ago, is already finding the coolest shit! Hell, the moment the dude asked to find lavender, they stumbled upon lavender.
And do not get him started on all the animals that love Tubbo. It makes no sense. The other day, because Tubbo leaves their window open all the damn time, he woke up to birds singing. Those fuckers were cleaning his mancave!
It’s almost as if Tubbo’s some fucking disney princess! Well, Tommy’s down sick of it. It’s not fair that all these damn hurt animals keep coming up to Tubbo and wasting their time by making Tubbo heal them. They could be doing shit, like building cobblestone castles or training!
What is so cool about a damn shroom?
Regardless, Tubbo better have a good fucking reason to make him get out of bed at two in the morning. As Tommy stands grumpily on the porch, his best friend is struggling to catch something. Eventually, the blonde gets annoyed and pulls out the flashlight he’s tucked away.
After all, this is not their first nighttime adventure. He shudders when he thinks of the time Tubbo pulled him outside only for the boy to show him the creepiest spiders. Disgusting, absolutely revolting. How can Tubs stand those fuckers?
He really hopes there aren’t any more spiders.
Flicking the light on, something comes flying at him. Thanks to his Big Man genes, he does not scream like a little bitch, but he does try and throw himself back.
Instead of a demonic spider from hell, he finds the prettiest moth in the history of ever.
“That’s a luna moth, Tommy! I have no clue how it got here but-”
Tommy puts his hand up to silence his friend. This is a momentous occasion. Most likely the biggest event in his life, if you ask him. This moth is a treasure. A blessing from the prime god himself (no matter how much Tubbo insists there’s a difference between a famous person and god, Tommy will never agree. Vikkstars gives primes, it’s all about primes.)
Tubbo, the traitorous bastard, giggles. “Its name is Clementine, Tommy,"
The boy watches as Clementine, the blessed moth, flies away.
“Clementine," He repeats, with reverence. His devoted passion ends with a sudden stop after Wilbur bursts through the front door, looking half deranged.
The teenager glares at them both, as if they’ve done something wrong. “You fucking bastards, you god damn bitches-”
Fuck, they’re so grounded.
It’s hard to get close to Wilbur. He’s very open, but Tubbo is sure there’s some way to get closer to him - but there’s something in Wilbur that disturbs him. The brown haired man is obsessed with the sea, and that? It never leads to anything good.
But there are very nice moments when he can appreciate Wilbur’s knack for causing chaos. They’re on a battle server - something, something about the world being a dangerous place and Tubbo needing to learn how to fight. It’s not like he doesn’t already know how to fight, the water spirit is a vicious opponent after all. He just doesn’t prefer it.
Wilbur, bless his soul, finds a different way to let off steam. “Hey Tubs, come here!” The boy follows, carefully putting his armour and weapons away as they enter a town. It’s disrespectful - or at least he thinks so anyways.
From what he can tell, he’s pretty sure the town is meant to be peaceful. But the signs stare back at him, the anti-hybrid propaganda. The taller brunette is content to walk past, but the boy stops in his tracks.
This sign, people like this, this was what Twig had warned him about for so long. He remembers nights whispering of hatred for players, remembers Twig begging him not to hate him.
He can’t hate it, the burning emotion is absent, but he stares. It bothers him how he can’t even feel disdain, he wants to loathe, he wants to be angry, and the fact that he can’t be angry is just making him get even more upset!
Wilbur wanders back over, and sets his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You hate it, don’t you?” The man asks, and brown eyes meet gray. The thing about Wilbur is that he was made to contain a storm - he was made and born and raised to cause a riot. A man like Wilbur will never settle for peace, he will always strive to go out with an explosion.
But that’s okay. Wilbur passes him the flint and stone, and he watches with a strange, new kind of glee as the fire that once took everything away from him burns this village to it’s bones.
He’s afraid that his friend will hate him, will kick Tubbo out of the house for feeling happy at the destruction, but Wilbur smiles. Gray eyes illuminated by fire, he proclaims, “I never liked this village very much anyways. The villagers were kind of pompous asshats anyways.”
The wind picks the fire up, and it spreads. Such meaningless destruction - it would make him feel bad if Earth didn’t do the same. Tubbo matches his brother’s calm smile, and watches the village burn.
Gray eyes watch brown eyes, as the fire glows turns them orange. He knows there’s something different about this kid, something that reminds him of Sally but is different in every way. It’s special, the way the kid watches the flames.
Paranoia screams at him that this child should burn too, because Wilbur saw that mark, Wilbur knows what being claimed looks like, but here the boy is, side by side.
There is no reason to fear this kid - he’s too polite. Doesn’t even let himself get mad, the perfect yes-man. Tubbo is a good kid to keep around, not only for the skill the boy shows with a blade. It’s hard to deny the fact that this boy has simply grown on him, like a pesky weed. But there’s nothing wrong about weeds, after all, Wilbur knows that the same can be said about him.
He puts his arm around the shorter’s shoulder, as black smoke rises into the skies. Let the players know, let them be in awe of the newest child under Wilbur’s wing, not Phil’s. Tubbo Underscore is a good kid. And Wilbur refuses to let another good kid get hurt by Phil’s negligence. The brunette stares at the burning town, and promises to never be as bad as his father. He’d rather kill himself than end up that way.
Some days everything is too loud in the cottage - Tommy’s shouting, Wilbur’s harsh comments that sting worse than cuts - it’s all too much. He storms out, ignoring the way that his friend rushes after him. He goes into the woods, and can feel the forest taking Tubbo into it’s grips. He should be afraid, he should be worried even, because there’s always a chance that he could get stuck in the foraliage forever.
But angry tears make their way down his face, and he’s too upset to remember what bothered him in the first place. He’s hurting, upset, and there’s an emotion that should be there, along that list that was taken away from him, and it’s not fair. It’s all so unfair - he wants to be able to get mad like Tommy, he wants to be able to hate, he wants to say the mean things that Wilbur says and mean it but he can’t!
It’s all too much, everything is too much. “I just - I just wish I could disappear!” He sobs to the listening Earth. The earth regards his request, and suddenly he’s walking straight into a ring of mushrooms.
The world does a weird buffering thing - the birds go dead silent, the wind stops pressing at his hair, and suddenly there’s two entities in front of him. The one on the left quite honestly looks like an angel, but more professional. The other one looks like a common criminal - it’s almost cartoonish. The one on the left, wearing a business suit bizarrely enough, is completely black and covered in eyes.
“Well hello there - you can call me Big Law, to put it simply for your small mind."
The other man, donned white with many, many eyes as well, grins at him from his singular mouth. This is going to give him nightmares - he’d be screaming if he wasn’t frozen.
“And my name is Big Crime, though…” Cyan eyes put their focus solely on the boy. “I’m sure you already know that’s not my real name."
His brown hair falls into his face. He backs up as hard as he can when they both lean towards him, their smiles stretching inhumanly wide. Because they’re not human - the term mortal doesn’t mean anything to them.
The fae are tricky creatures. Tubbo has been warned by the sea enough times to know that the best thing to do in this situation is to stay quiet. But the damage is done - he’s walked into a mushroom ring. Their mushroom ring. He’s completely at their mercy until someone calls his full name.
The beings look at him with their many eyes, and Tubbo feels like crying. “How about this kid, we make a deal? In return for allowing us to take residence in your head, we’ll help you become a great player. Get you all the fame, adoration, love, anything you desire," Big Crime offers.
Tubbo shakes his head while tears stream. He’s never been afraid - not really anyways. The spirits usually kept him out of trouble, so why is he here?
The other fae steps in, fake reassurances on it’s tongue. “Oh darling, you don’t have a choice."
Tommy calls his full name three hours later. The damage is done. When Tubbo looks at himself in the mirror, he can see the tattoo on his back. He was just free, he was just able to be himself, and then this happens?
Tubbo chokes on his own grief while two beings watch him fall apart due to their will.
Tubbo gets better at PVP. He makes somewhat of a name for himself - along with the fact that he does redstone builds. He certainly makes a name for being one of the youngest players on tb2t, a server known for its brutality. No rules and no structure lead to anarchy. But, even with his new fame, there’s no reasoning behind his invitation to something called the Dream SMP. He isn’t that big just yet - at least, not a level to explain getting invited to one of the most popular servers in the world. Plus, it’s not as if he wanted this fame.
Tommy got one too - and Wilbur got an explanation that his invitation was lost in the mail and Microsoft was trying their best to get it to him. Tubbo stares at the letter, and feels the warning pressing at the nape of his neck. The peaceful atmosphere echoes in his bones.
Staring at the cursive handwriting of DreamWasTaken, he knows deep inside that it’s all going to change.
The two beings in his head only echo this sentiment, and Tubbo wishes they weren’t useful so that way he could hate them in peace.
Big Law explains to him how to teleport to newer servers - Phil never really taught him. Plus, the only times he ever really traveled was when Wilbur was with him. Tubbo tells Tommy that he'll go ahead, seeing as he's the one who's better at the judgement scale.
Tommy, bless his soul, simply waves him off. The taller boy knows by now his friend isn't quite normal. The shorter boy holds his tongue on reminding Tommy that he's not exactly normal either, but it's become apparent that the blonde is simply unaware.
It's pretty frustrating to have to explain to Tommy that no, starting fires on accident is something that happens often, without spilling the fact that Tommy is the fire spirit. Wind finds his suffering hilarious.
It's the first time in four, almost five, years he's journeyed on his own. The quiet is an old friend.
At least the spirits seem pretty happy to have this chance to interact with the teenager without risk. Earth never wanted Wilbur to catch them talking.
Oh Mojang, when he got caught dancing in the rain? The way Wilbur had eyed the mud on his feet will never leave his mind. Big brothers are truly the most frightening beings on the earth.
He feels the familiar tug of another's consciousness in his mind, and can tell that Big Crime disagrees with that. Regardless of the fae's opinion, which means jackshit to Tubbo, they're getting close to a village.
The server hub isn't really built for younger servers, so usually you have to go to a Mojang Center.
The line was so long though, with the rise of interest in small public servers. There's also the fact that private servers don't have portals, and private servers are always a pain getting into the first time. He took one look at the long line, and steered off into the right. There's more Mojang building, no matter the walk.
So he finds himself after an hour's walk, entering a village. He sits in an awful office, and a woman with green hair greets him.
Not a woman, actually, a kid. What?
"Uhm. Where are your parents?" Tubbo asks, holding onto his travel bag. Well, Tommy calls it a purse, but it's a messenger bag, and Tubbo really needs to focus.
The kid spins around in the office chair, before the girl refocuses on him. "Wouldn't you wanna know, weather boy."
Children are very rude. Awful. The girl snickers, and then holds out her hand. "I'll need your server information, where you want to go, stuff like that." She says, holding out a green hand.
Actually, she's entirely green. There's dark green showing off her facial features, but she wears a green hoodie with a smiley face. Tubbo hands it over, because he's genuinely somewhat afraid of the feral kid behind the counter.
She types in the information, before showing physical disgust. "Oh, you're going to my brother's server. Tell him that he sucks, by the way." Tubbo doesn't gape. There's been a lot of odd things in his life, and you know what? The probably rabid kid is now related to the minecraft speed runner Dream.
The girl finishes her typing, and then tosses an id card onto the desk. Tubbo picks it up, and he's not sure if this whole transaction is legal. She stands up, picking up a tablet and hopping over the desk. Tubbo practically jumps out of his skin, and the other girl laughs at him.
Cheeks reddened, the teenager follows behind her as she enters a side room, an obsidian portal standing proudly. She writes something on a piece of paper, and tosses it in.
The server flickers, and then turns green. She eyes it, glaring. "His ego….if you see my brother, tell him I hope a spider bites him." Tubbo isn't unpacking all of that, so he does a quick check of his bag. "Anyways, you'll be able to access the server, and once you join you'll be able to find it on your server information list, located on your device supplied to you by Mojang,"
"Speaking of Mojang, my mother will kill me if I don't repeat this. Mojang does not support the actions of any admins on the server you are about to join, nor do we support their ideals, values, or choices. We are a company," - she puts air quotes around the word company - "not a religion."
Tubbo, once again, doesn't have time to unpack all of that, since once she finishes, he is promptly shoved into the portal by a girl who is half his size.
A brunet enters the Dream SMP face first, greeted by the warm rays of a golden sun. The horizon is colored red from the beginning of a new dawn.
This teenager, young and scrawny, sits up in the grass, as wind streaks through spruce trees and wild berries stray dangerously close to his feet.
Wild ferns unravel at the presence of the Earth spirit, who places a hand against it's boy's back, as the Wind ruffles his hair and the Water spirit watches it's seashell with heightened interest.
The three spirits put their hands on a simple mortal boy's back and tell him to run - run towards the dawn, and become something great.
(I suppose the best thing about befriending the spirits is the way they support you. They help you up even when you're teetering on the edge of collapse. When I first entered the Dream SMP server, I don't think I realised how hard it must've been for them to lead me towards the fate they knew would befall me.)